This voice,
That tiptoes onto the page
And whispers in layers –
Picking up and putting down
Words with little pulleys –
Is precious to me.
She was there, with me,
When I broke the window
And there, every time
I shut a door.
She was there the day
I scattered red rose petals
And she was with me, too
When I first found
The all-of-everything.
She was the one that discovered
Sylvia and Rainer and Fernando
And the others…
And it was her
That understood them
And gave them to me.

She is the one that screams
Whisper-screams
In other people’s words
When she isn’t brave enough
To use her own.
It is in her hand,
That exists the white rose
That I can’t seem to find
Because
She was the one
That saw the true blue
In my grandmother’s eyes
As she was slipping away.
And
She was the one
That said,
“No more”
When
I could not.

And now…
After all the years
I’m only just realizing
(****)
That She will be the one
To follow the path
To its terrible end…

And that I...
(Oh God)
Will
Have
To
Say
Goodbye
To my oldest,

Dearest friend.



Copyright © Silent-No-More ... [ 2006-04-20 20:57:25]
(Date/Time posted on site)