That’s why I sang these songs: the art of writing down my name might call up hers
or, reaching the true cause of me (a reason? a meaning?), might find a home, or build one
that is why I sang
In evening when light fades you feel it, or in the night where nothing shines
but stars that gleam from the far end of the thinnest thread: those strands that catch
the corner of your eye and rouse your sounds, widen your smile so song is woven
on the melody of her curve, harmony in the curl and moisture of her lips;
that is where I sang; and where our voices met we settled in, the sunlight came
so every seed we planted surged and opened leaves in sweet upswelling
fountain-spilling flowers, fruit, future as though I sang them into life
I know I only listened for their names: my art is in repeating what I’ve heard
In morning, when sky lightens, one can see she’s there no longer
as when a room, abandoned, suffers doors to be thrown open
and stale air is wakened with a gasp
I sang because I could not find her, when I woke and reached within
or, listening, noises swarmed, but I could not hear her harmony in them;
the seeds of wisdom whispered me: her spirit, not her form, had fled
and I should travel the long road to recover my desire
a gleam at the farthest end of the thinnest thread
My story doesn’t have a happy end. One walks the hollows
of the earth to find her there, where no sun warms the heart;
you make a light to show your way but it’s not light
that will convince her: she must decide
to follow you, or not
Still at any note along that song your voice might falter
your hope might fade, and human, quickly turn
to catch a reassuring glance, a glimpse to prove
she’s with you, even as she’s with you
I admit: I turned. And in that instant her despair my failure
love escaped her eyes, made her delightful lines a lacework
I could never touch again; her flower withered, petals fell
until the winter wind was at my back
That was an unjust test
Maybe I should not have tried… But that is human, too:
it’s not the lack of beauty brings us pain, but beauty’s loss
that drives us to attempt to write
an indelible refrain
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