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park canto

she would hint but wouldn't say
if it's too late for me to see
Grace at play, dancing, dreaming, singing
a song with verses I never wrote
a melody swinging without my touch
a beat that was never shared
and when i asked instead she
sat with it and kept it tight
instead, said, "think about it"

the ink flows and reminds me
black smears on the paper hint at
the mess left behind, unpaid bills
red letter days, changing ways
whispers of vespers, do you really
have to go that far, i guess it wasn't
nearly enough to anchor the rope or
pull hard enough and fast enough
to take up the slack or realize that
you needed to cast off the lines

a rising tide will carry you
and spare you the pain
instead joy shining
like the pearl you are
luminous, blinding
the light and the heat
healing deep wounds
salve for those you touch
and yourself
your self
beautiful self


This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on January 21, 2007 11:28 PM.

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