Grace Notes: Cut Flowers
By: Juliette Van Der Molen
Tags: Poetry, Relationships, LGBTQ, Memories, Love

I remember lots of things about Faith, but I mostly remember her hands and how they fit into mine.

This month’s Grace Notes* feature is about the poem Cut Flowers. This writing was deeply personal to me. I sort of laugh when I say that because most of my poetry is like that. What makes this one different? Well, it’s about a woman who was my first real love. I met Faith when I was in a polyamorous marriage. That marriage was difficult but not for the reasons you might think. It was deeply abusive. When I met Faith, that abuse was just beginning and in a lot of ways she was my solace. We connected over time and grew into each other.

her hands,

long-fingered petals,

delicate vibrancy

meshed into all

my empty spaces

Photo by Anastasia Vityukova on Unsplash

I remember lots of things about Faith, but I mostly remember her hands and how they fit into mine. She had beautiful, elegant fingers compared to mine that were short and stubby. Even though we were so different, somehow that didn’t matter when she laced her fingers into mine. It wasn’t just the spaces between my fingers that she filled, she was filling spaces in my heart that were missing love and tenderness.

sending a blush

down deep through

parted pistil

engorged with

unspoken

i love yous.

I never told her that I loved her, though I wanted to many times. There are a lot of old regrets that bang around in my heart, but this one is probably the biggest. I like to think that I showed her all the ways that I loved her, but I’m not sure that’s really the same as hearing the words. I wasn’t familiar with expressing emotion verbally and so I found ways to show her special kindnesses. To be fair, she never said she loved me either. And yet, I don’t doubt that she did. Maybe we never had to say it.

the glass breaks

in our hothouse

and we grow

free,

Photo by Lauren Ferstl on Unsplash

As we became closer, we grew together and grafted onto each other like some kind of hybrid flower. The hothouse I reference was the structure of my primary relationship, which was full of heavy handed rules. For a time, he always had to be present during our interactions and I felt the stifling nature of that. I never felt free to really be myself in those situations and I always had the feeling that a hand was hanging over us, ready to pluck us apart at any time. Which, ultimately is what happened. But, for a time we were left to our own devices and that was a beautiful thing.

her goodbye —

a sharp snick

of garden shears,

pain dulled by shock

only to bleed slow

from my stem later.

When I make a commitment, I find it hard to back down from, even when the person I’m committing to doesn’t have the best intentions. Ultimately, my relationship with Faith was predicated upon an agreement with my husband, who I had vowed to honor and obey. When he sensed that our relationship was growing deeper and the roots were beginning to entwine, he was quick to end it by simply saying he didn’t consent to it anymore. So, she left. And with her, she took the love and light I had in my life at the time. I learned to disassociate in order to survive the emotional pain. I already knew how to do that to combat the physical pain of abuse, but this further step broke my spirit. Losing her was devastating.

now we are petals

strewn along

brutal currents,

Photo by Josh Post on Unsplash

We both had our own difficulties to travel through, only at this point we didn’t do that together. I was not allowed to speak to her for years, but I never stopped loving her. After I divorced my husband, we finally connected again. We found that the same emotions flooded back and when she clasped my hand her delicate fingers looked no different than they had so many years ago. But, we were both different. In different places, with different wants and needs. Our time had passed, even though our connection did not. I still have a deep well of love and affection in my heart for Faith, and I always will. I just wish I’d been brave enough to tell her that I loved her.