For Leon, Caitlinn, Garrul and the Lands
I wish I were a poet. For I've lost my love,
and they say that poets can find words instead.
But any words I had –
they did not come to comfort me,
they don't belong to me, they're something wrong, a fatal song
from above.
It seemed so easy
to find the difference 'tween fame and faith and fate,
between a home and being homeless from now on,
but then the words would come and play their tainted game of sham and shame –
it's all the same. I've been the one to blame,
the only one.
I have been walking on a broken rainbow,
and now the sky won't hold me any more.
I will be falling a long way and lie shattered on the ruins
of what was before.
Every word you say is dear to me
out of the silence you're sharing with the one you love.
No matter what they mean,
no matter whom you're speaking to:
I hold them fast
as something that maybe will outlast the dissolving of my past
and my identity.
It's not so easy
to keep my will in harmony with yours,
to build a home 'tween renunciation and regret,
for my own will is strong inside,
I cannot hide from finally having to decide
whether to give up or fight
for things unsaid.
So I'm still walking on a broken rainbow,
feeling it crumbling further every day.
I will be falling, be drifting away, farther from you
in more than one way.
It's not so easy
to fall apart and to be recomposed anew,
to have no home in one's own body and one's soul.
It's words that brought me to this end,
they've struck me lame, they've sown dissent,
they've choked the flame that made me innocent,
that made me whole.
Oh, I'm still walking on a broken rainbow,
some day I'll fall and lose what's left of me.
I will be falling a long way in cold silence,
down to the realm where the words set me free.
Crystal 05/11/04