Wednesday, November 30, 2016

you ...



you ...

and so ... it has come to this
the horses have left the pasture
and huddle together
by the broken doors of the barn
their restless hooves
silent at last
their riders ghosts of ghosts
like memories of memories
the indistinct shadows of shadows
so far removed from my faltering eyes
i dare not try to describe
what i can no longer see
forgoing the selfish temptation
and the cruel dishonesty
to fool you with
imperfect recollections
of what i once knew to be true
and know to be no longer true at all

and so ... it has come to this
the rooms where you have left me
are morning cold
with walls that narrow night by night
and even as i lay out rows of opiates
to push time and space apart
my life is like the practiced hustle
of a street-wise prostitute
whose trade is pain for pleasure
and whose pilgrimage is a circle
with no beginning and no end
the neverending turning of turning one trick for another
each as meaningless as the one before
and when the moon is high
and golden in the smoky sky
you may see me in the window
standing helpless in the rags of age
but still looking over the city
measuring the fall
measuring how the climb has led
to such a long and strange way down

and so ... it has come to this
you
you who have fallen for the spill
of my too often casual secrets
and the disguise of a heart forlorn
you who have believed you knew me
simply from the words i wrote
words as liquid as the ocean
and as transient as the tides
and still you believed
in something here
something between the summer rain and the winter snow
something between the desire of the flesh and the hopelessness of love
something between the energy of life and the dust of death
you
the teachers of my heart
offering me words of consolation
words of hope and salvation
words of love tattooed across my heart
words i would repeat in metaphors
stolen from what your eyes said to me
when your words failed
and yes, i was ever mindful
ever watchful
and ever thankful
so thanks
benedictus

and so ... it has come to this
oh, do not let a teardrop fall
let me wipe it away
even as it may be yours
or may be my own
i know at last
that i am ready
ready for the crossing
ready for the soft release
ready for another journey
ready to step through
the doorway leading from
goodbye to forever gone
and although i know
you will not fully understand the sudden silence
as no man or woman truly can
i have learned to live in quiet spaces
hovered in the full stops of sad songs
and now i guess
i have mastered the pause
mastered the unspoken whisper
and all that is left
is for you to relent at last
for you
to let me go


 







 








 
 


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