You Are Here

And all these days
I was content to wander,
To wonder through the bus windows
About the galaxies of rain
To squander
The potential of the future
On the resignations of the past
I have traveled slow years
Through fast miles
And I miss the sunshine
Warming my skin
Imagining it was Your love
Because it’s easier to imagine
Than to take hold, to live in,
To consume,
To assume the responsibility;
Love bears responsibility.

I can’t ride the old bus ticket forever.
Some part of my soul passes
Every open station
Intransigent in my seat
Because eventually I bring every love
Back to the scene of the storm,
Back to the soaked debris,
And strewn heirlooms
Back to the caved roof
And shattered glass windows.

I used to think it reduced to one:
I couldn’t be loved
But how well I’ve been loved
All the while
By the best of us.
The truth: try as I might,
I cannot love.
All my love is tied to destruction-
It is tossed amongst the strewn debris.
How may I recover what is lost?
How can I lift my love
From the muddy bed of grief?

If all these years haven’t done it,
What other salve remains?
Is there a balm
For the phantom limb?

Continuing forward is no progress.
Will it always ache?
Who can bear the legs
Unable to support their own weight?

About viewingcamelot View all posts by viewingcamelot

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