Where did we fall when both we held to rain and rode the droplets to the earth?
When winds, in their assertions
Swept umbrellas from our fingers
‘Til on desert winds of warm desertion
Did we, like the notes from singers
Hope the hurricane was not a death, but just a song of new rebirth?
And did we clutch too longingly like thumbs on reddened eyes that echo tears?
And beg for but a mention
Of a thought of some tomorrow
Where the winds we tried to call redemption
And the light, we needn’t borrow
Like a loan made out of yesterdays we tried to sign away with years?
When did we turn to hours as if pillows neath a head of weighted words?
Where sleep was by attrition
And our waking was in folly
To a day of dread and cold admission
Set upon our hearth as holly
Did we press our lips to feathers as if want could turn us into birds?
Or did we just imagine that a dream of yew and aye could be a sea?
Where clipper ships and galleys
Were the years we tried to capture
Like a peak in this, a world of valleys
Something more than simple rapture
Did we shackle these, our wrists of want, to promises of “Maybe it could be?”
There I saw her dancing once
As soft, and calm as autumn dust
My angel in this world of ashes raining from an empty sky
Listening to distant rain
Like songs that never sound the same
As those she heard before when she could smile and her eyes were dry
There she was, with folded wings
Her words and heart a coiled spring
Where joy was like a cigarette, and life a flame, and hope a sigh
There I saw her, looking down
Her tears, they never made a sound
Where rain was all around her, and my arms could never keep her dry
Wondering how I can see
A dance where surely none could be
An answer where she sees forever what? and who? and how? and why?
There she is, as if the moon
Her darkest day is bright as noon
For I, who saw her dancing once, with folded wings, and tears within her eyes
Did you see the light that flickered in her eyes?
The candle of her soul that she protects with little lies?
And how she fails but smiles just because she tries?
But later cries…
Did you see the thunder in her storming heart?
The lightning and the hurricanes she puts into her art?
And how she fears the end, but never fears to start?
Or to depart…
Did you see the ink upon her fingertips?
The worlds of inspiration that are locked within her lips?
And how her silence lingers like a long ellipse?
Like an eclipse…