December 4, 2013

 

 

I can see the seat

where you were sitting,

when you opened up your heart-

You found the setting fitting

 

to reveal the secret you’d held

for most all, of your life.

Then, seemed to you the time,

to unload pride’s sacrifice.

 

In a way, I guess I knew,

or had sort of weighed it up.

Such knowledge can be drunk

from life’s rich loving cup.

 

At times I had felt your pain.

I also knew to what great length,

you’d held back tight, the past,

costing you all of your strength.

 

Often looking into your eyes,

over many years, I saw

that at times you’d just go blank,

and then quietly withdraw.

 

It was easier for you, I guess,

to sidetrack and remain aloof.

For you to acknowledge grief,

would need from you, living proof.

 

And by then, in your mind

you had ceased to exist.

With most emotion you struggled-

like a limp handshake of the wrist,

 

or a hug that was icy cold

and always released too soon,

protecting what feelings were left,

that escaped being buried that June.

 

In a muddled, befuddled way

you had learnt somehow to live-

with nothing much to take,

and even less to give.

 

With no future plans in place

and no sunny horizon ahead.

Decades came and went

with you scarcely, all but dead.

 

Just ticking along each day

with your quietly controlled act,

well worth an academy award-

no great actor could ably enact.

 

In this high security prison

you’d built within your head,

where parole not an option-

enforced railings, your bedstead.

 

You held fast your heartache,

unseen, with no hint of the hell,

that you had chosen to endure,

and that you covered up so well.

 

So now the end, but not the end,

for when a torment shared,

it is but an agony doubled,

and neither one unimpaired.

 

And now my one predicament:

‘Do I take it to my grave?’

Thus burying it forever

Oh, to this tale, I am a slave!

 

I’m left with your dilemma.

True, it now is second hand.

But I think the time has come,

to set it free with a reprimand.

 

 

 

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