"Oh, the comfort — the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person — having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away." ~ Dinah Craik
the glint of a forgotten memory,
the tired glow of a dying star.
It is a mournful tune, a dirge
of the half-recollected dream
of our light, our life; a lament
of the words that defeated us.
Yes, I spoke the chaff and grain,
poured from an empty heart;
I burned your faithful, sifting arms.
It is a requiem for the joys,
stalled, for the love, lost;
a song for the infinitude
of the caverns of regret.
For I bound your loving hands,
weighing them with a measure
for my cruel, unthinking words.
Sing: its verse is despair,
its chorus sorrow; I burned
the book before its happy
ending: I drowned us in tears.
I surrender: no longer seeking
a breath of kindness; it is all
to listen to your song.
Also posted on Big Tent Poetry. More poems.