I thought of you often but
I never could tell you
the 'you' that I cherished,
something hurt me so bad
A few had come close, I couldn't
take them in either
I guess the distance between
us was my love never had.
And though we live separate
I keep two rooms open
One has you in it, the other
does not
And I move in the middle,
unsure and protected
And I trip on my rope, vaguely
sensing I'm caught.
A friend tried to find me and
saw through to my wheel
She said you're now on the
bottom, it's either that or the top
You can keep yourself tiny
and bang on the big door
Or take the space saved for
the queen of the hop
But you know queens have their
problems too, and my size won't stay static
I like to think I never was
one for the hoop anyway
And then that night I dreamed
again of the far side of nothing
And trembling with terror
I chose to come back this way.
In the streets or the 'after,'
in the churches or in memory,
The light that will guide
you is the source of the flame
While stumbling the back alleys
in search of right action
I fell and wept darkly and
acknowledged your name
And the door to my prison
dissolved right before me
But like a young fool I quick
looked for a power to claim
And my wailing increased with
the shock of the knowledge
That I often have needed something
out there to blame.
I give up my fisted touch,
my thoughts strong like fences
My totem-pole stature, body
chipped to the bone
I'm nobody's saviour, and
nobody's mine either
I hear the desert wind whisper
"But neither are we alone."
Sure I long to ask how you're
doing, if you got to the lightness
That you wanted so fiercely
when we drifted that way
There's no telephones ringing
now, but I feel something calling me
And I'm ready to go, I just
need time to say
Hearts are like meadows, with
their weathered potential
With their reasons diluted
by reason itself
I may be shivering at the
foot of this slow-giving mountain
But the tiny spring flowers
can look just like you
And I won't ask the purpose
of all of my footsteps
And I won't let my eyelids
cast down
I am looking for something
outside of forgiveness
You might call it the jewel
of the crown.
Copyright © 1984 Nemesis
Publishing, All Rights Reserved
Marco Giunco |
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