After All

There are so many things that I can't say out loud...
I can't tell them how I ache..
How lonely I am..
How frightened
How insecure...
How I cry to the moon
With no raindrops
to wash my teary eyes
No sweet-scented air
To clear my lungs of long-accumulated
dust and smog
And clear my mind of the tangled webs
that were spun while I was asleep

Will you come and hold me?
And talk to me?
Please, tell me that I won't break my neck
Or crack my skull
        during this struggle for life
I may break an arm... or a leg ... or even just a nail
But I want to know that I'll be fixed again
I want your insurance of love
your guarantee
That you'll always be there to catch me
Your promise of safety
Security ... serenity ...

Otherwise I'd purchase a one-way ticket
To the moon ... or maybe Saturn
And never look back,
Never regret a thing
except, maybe ...
That you really didn't love me
After all ...

* * *

Why do I throw my words around so carelessly?
Wasting them on my selfish ego
Petting, coaxing it on
and tending to its every whim
While knowing so well that I am wrong
Why did I ever believe that I was not strong?
For my strength is in Love

But I cried that you did not hand it to me
on a gold-rimmed, silver platter
wrapped up tight and squeezed into a stone case
Then locked with a diamond key, icy cold
to keep thieves out ...
and to keep it from breaking

The truth is ... I was wrong again

What is love when it is bound?
It withers and decomposes ...
Fertilizing the ground for bitter thorns
That scrape and scar the inner heart
Until it becomes a mere numb cage
Encasing an endless black abyss
Cut off from the sacred orbit ...
Love? I think not!

For who's heart but mine swells up in their chest
preparing to burst
Just to imagine you standing there
Leaning against my door post;
just being there,
          nothing more ...

And who else's life is suddenly new again
Just to hear a sparrow sing
    before the first bloom of spring
And know it was you reminding me
Of the promise you made last autumn
When the last leaf fell,
carving sadness into the base of my heart

You promised me ... you knew ...
That the deeper sorrow digs into the soul
The more room it creates for happiness,
the next time it decides
to come poking around

You promised to send me a sign
Because ... I told you ...
The seasons all have theirs! They surely do:

When all frost has departed, been sent on its way
Spring can't be more than a breath away

When grown up leaves brush against sprouting fruit
I hear sultry tunes issue from summer's brass flute

When leaves turn to fire and balmy air grows crisp
I taste harvested pumpkin and oatmeal on my lips

And winter is no secret, entering with icy blasts
So where is the sign of your coming at last?

"Still your soul, my love," says your voice in my dreams
"The sign of my coming will be no riddle or game,
It shall appear to you, open, and very plain.
For nature has no shame, nor does Love
Simply open your eyes and see what has come."

So then I See ... and I Know

And my cup runneth over

After all ...