The Road Alone, A Poem

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© John Wollwerth

The Road Alone
copyright 2013, Brandi Kennedy

Some things cannot be undone. What you make a person feel in one single moment, with one carelessly spoken word or turn of phrase, if it's strong enough, may never be forgotten. This is written for every abandoned child, every person growing up unwanted, discarded, rejected. This is for every human suffering the pain of loss, the grief of being left behind, and the fear of never being enough.

It's a reminder that healing comes in the night, when you least expect it - or bit by bit, so slowly it goes almost unnoticed. A reminder that hope dawns with each new sunrise on the horizon. And that pain, like the rising tides, will always recede again.

I needed you -
can't say how many times I cried,
reaching out to try and touch
the broad back that was all I could see.

You live with a cold soul
and judge me with a bitter heart,
but what I needed was for you to love and support
the little girl that was me - the way a parent should.

Now, I go on, making my way, lacking your guidance;
I walk too often alone with my fingers
curling around a gentle hand that is
no longer there to hold.

Someday you'll be gone in body just as you are in spirit,
or perhaps it will be me who's gone -
but we shall meet again in Heaven.
Or at least, that's my prayer.

And I will stand there proud for once -
in belief of myself and who I became without you.
Proud, as I never could truly be before,
under the weight of your disapproval.

Because I have learned and I am stronger now,
without you beside me, without you to lean on -
in sight of the truth left behind
and finally free of the grief.

Edited to add: The Road Alone is an original poetic work by Brandi Kennedy, and is published here as a sneak peek into the heart and soul of what is now shared exclusively on Patreon. To view more writings like this one, please visit me and subscribe here. (July 2017)


  1. This must have been hard to write; you really put your heart out there. I especially love the last two stanzas, and and the last line.

    1. It was hard to write; it was a personal feeling, a very personal type of thing to put into the world. But sometimes that's how it has to be, isn't it?


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