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Song of a Relentless Heart

She is never sure
Always in full retreat behind a curtain of black
Where the constellations wait.
In the confusion of the satellites and moons
She swears her closure is hiding
Like the little lies shoved into our closets.
Drag me.
Tie me to the chariots, and race me in circles
Let the city know
How a man has followed, and been forced to retreat
Race me through the sands of time
And untie me at last at a place I know
To be a wasteland.
Comfort me with euphemisms
Words soft like summer rain
Let the dew paint portraits on my eyes
Let her see how a man holds a story.
Brush my shoulder with reassurance
Bless me with the gaze of an angel
Fallen from the pillowed skies
To an unforgiving earth.
Let me know how a woman has been hurt
why she refuses the warmth;
The solace of a youthful heart.
On cold autumn nights I want to ask her why.
I can see my breath in mushroom clouds
And they fan out and dissipate like my meandering thoughts;
Like her fading attention
“I want to trust you.” she says behind the curtain
She can’t see me.
Her eyes scan the outside of her hiding place for a soliciter
They don’t find me, but
I’m the only one there.
We used sit on park benches, locked in staring matches
“Follow my eyes.” she seems to say
I dare her to come out from behind the curtain, but
She adores the night, skipping through the blackened meadows
Watching her step
But at the same time not caring what she steps on
Or who.
I call her a coward, like preschool peer-pressure
And clinging to her blanketed sky, she smiles
Like you do when you break mother’s vase
Or a heart
Like when you’re at a loss for words.
So many times I quit her childish games
I walk away from the place the chariots left me
And kick the bloodied dust from under my sandals
As I travel the roads to a thousand Damascus-towns
Where the truth flies to me, unannounced, unseen.
But I wag my arrogant finger, and kick the dust
Refusing to know I should leave this place.
Yet here I sit before the curtain, because
The life of a Nomad is not the one I choose.
And her game is never-ending
But it’s all I have.
I throw rocks up at the night, unrequited.
Any day now, she’ll be coming on out
Says my breath, thick again in the void of black
Standing guard between me
And that which I wish to know.
Day after day, and even through evening
She shows no sign of letting up.
Here I sit.
My voice, though broken from shouting
Still musters the strength to pray
For the grace to walk away
Never looking back.





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Brehlie said...
Dec. 21, 2009 at 9:10 pm
Amazing. Really, amazing.
 
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