Another year come and gone:
I bemoan my weakness.
Each year I slip a little more,
Slowly lose control:
First I feel,
Then feel more—
Finally succumbing
To showing my weakness.
Thus gradually,
My life falls apart.
Since I cannot hold myself,
My thoughts,
My feelings in check,
I lose my grip
On all the rest of my life, as well.
Oh, mystery of the Incarnation,
That truly God should become truly human!
I cannot comprehend this,
Since all my life
I have struggled to be
Un-human—
Anything but human:
Alien, feline,
Superhuman genius,
Or subhuman
And unfeeling—
Especially unfeeling!
But I confess I am human,
Confess as though a sin,
Although I know
To be human is good,
Ordained of God.
I find it painful to be so weak,
For I know weakness begets weakness.
Most of all I fear:
After years of denial,
I fear it may no longer be possible
For me to claim this human nature;
I fear that the attempt shall cost me
That which I do not wish to lose—
My friends,
And myself.
What shall I say?
I have no more answers than you;
I have as many questions, though.
But I do not wish to trouble you with them.
So—I shall say nothing.
What shall I say?
Perhaps in your questions I'll hear my answer;
Perhaps in my silence, you'll hear my questions.
Perhaps in this conversation, we'll hear each other.
Still, I shall say nothing.
What shall I say?
Shall I encourage you to do the one thing,
Discourage you from the other?
Shall my advice be for your good, or for mine?
No, I shall say nothing.
What shall I say?
Does it even matter?
We always seem to find plenty of words—
Meaningless or meaningful, I do not know.
Yet, I shall say nothing.
What shall I say?
That you are my friend? That you know;
More than that you could not bear.
Yet, I shall not stop telling you—
How? I shall say nothing.
What shall I say?
If you will consent to keep asking,
I will consent to not answer.
I promise no advice, but always will listen—
That's why I'll say nothing.
Somehow when we're together
The hours slip by;
I wonder why.
Sometimes, I wonder whether. . .
Sometimes we talk and laugh—
Soon hours have passed.
They go so fast!
The night is gone by half.
Somehow we speak of fears,
Hopes, questions, dreams.
Too soon, it seems,
Too quickly, morning nears.
(Somewhere, alone, apart,
This life I chose—
Thus now I close
And hide myself, my heart.)
So now, I must go sleep—
Goodnight, goodbye,
I sadly sigh;
Then I depart, to weep.
Somehow when we're together
The hours slip by;
I wonder why.
Sometimes, I wonder whether you and I. . .
You break my heart—
You are so sad,
So sad and alone.
I would hold you, comfort you,
But that would do neither of us any good.
If only you could see yourself through my eyes. . .
Why is it that the gifted are plagued with doubt
While those who boast have so little reason for it?
You are so haunted,
So insecure,
So talented,
So beautiful,
So alone.
You search creation,
Yet still there is found no suitable companion for you.
You are unfortunately drawn to myopic fools
Who cannot see how wonderful you are,
Who only add to your sadness,
Who break your heart—
And mine, too.
I wish you could find someone,
Find happiness.
It must be the oldest story,
To be attracted to one who doesn't reciprocate—
Yet I can understand,
For you break my heart.
My fingers flame,
My shoulder sears,
This limb hangs in limbo.
Since it offends me
I consider amputation,
To let it fully fall into the flame,
So that I might be free.
Ah, but if I could trade:
To live forever with my arm ablaze
But to have the burning in my heart extinguished!
I would gladly take the pain of nerve and muscle
Rather than the irrational inflammation of desire.
How is it that thoughts unbidden come to mind?
How do undesired desires arise in the heart?
How can we want that which we do not want?
Desire is the cause of suffering,
But also the hope of future.
(Life is suffering.)
We hope for that which we desire;
Hope impels us to create the future.
The gift of fire forges, purifies,
Yet also burns.
Acute pain I can stand,
It is the chronic pain that drives me mad.
The day after day gnawing
Wastes away my arm,
Chews up my patience,
Nibbles at my soul.
Like water wearing away stone
It wears me out,
Wears me down.
The constant irritation exhausts me,
Leaves me constantly irritable.
My body tells me,
Each day speaking a little louder,
That I must change.
It nags me to sleep more,
It rebels at my working habits,
It pesters me when I drive.
It demands so much time and energy to care for it,
As though I could make up for all the years of neglect.
My heart tells me,
Each day crying a little louder,
That I must change.
It mourns the many years I have wasted,
It urges me to speak,
It says this life was not meant for me,
As though I could change the past,
As though I could make up for the mistakes.
My mind screams above the din.
It says I cannot afford to follow the path my heart would take.
It says I do not have time to rest or sleep.
It says I do not have time or money to do what I love.
It says I dare not risk admitting that I love.
Acute pain I can stand,
It is the chronic pain that drives me mad.
The day after day longing,
Wastes away my hours,
Chews up my reason,
Nibbles at my soul.
Like water wearing away stone...
Perhaps it carves me into a sculpture.
Perhaps it is fire to burn away the dross.
Perhaps it will destroy me.
Water dripping from the faucet
Annoys, keeps one awake at night,
Wastes water.
Yet the dripping may keep pipes from freezing,
from bursting.
(Is not my heart always in danger of freezing?
Or is it in danger of bursting from the pain?)
Water on the forehead may be torture,
Yet water on the brow may be baptism,
Life-giving sign—
But also sign of death.
Acute pain I can stand,
It is the chronic pain that drives me mad.
The day after day thinking of you;
The drip, drip of second-guessing what I have said,
but especially what I have left unsaid;
The day after day after endless day wishing to be near you;
The day after day praying for you,
That you may never endure such pain;
The daily knowledge that you already suffer,
And that there is nothing I can do about it—
That is what makes chronic pain so difficult to endure:
The frustration of not comprehending it,
The inability to overcome it.
I have long favored my mind at the expense of my body.
Now my reason wars with my body and soul—
My whole being pays the price.
My mind mutinies, provides no assistance:
I do not know how to escape this trap of my life,
I do not know how to silence the voices.
I do not know how to stop the dripping water,
the gnawing pain.
I do not know how to help myself—
How can I be audacious enough to care for someone else?
Yet if I knew how to cease concern for you
My own pain would dissolve,
Or at least be bearable.
Well, that's what my mind says;
My heart says it is only by caring that I can find relief
For myself or for you.
My body says only that it hurts.
Acute pain I can stand,
It is the chronic pain that drives me mad.
The day after day longing
Wastes away my life,
Chews up my hours,
Nibbles at my soul.
Like water wearing away stone
My tears wear away my heart.
The green of the water
The blue of the sky
(the color of your eyes)
The coolness of the water
The warmth of the sun
(the touch of your hand)
The roar of the waves
The whisper of the wind
(the sound of your voice)
I am at my happiest by the water
on the water
in the water
But I would be happier
If you were here with me.
If I cannot be with you
Then let me be alone.
Long I have preferred my own company
To that of most others.
Long I have been comfortable
Keeping my own counsel
Alone with my thoughts.
So if I cannot be with you
Let me be alone—
Because when I am alone
I can pretend that I'm with you.
When young and foolish
(Though perhaps not as foolish
As I am now)
I claimed not my humanity
But knew only anger and fear.
(Fear it was that surpassed all emotions.)
I struggled with disdain
Bordering on hatred
Yet found in guilt a strange comfort.
My mother roused my anger—
Teasing me she said
That when
(Not if—poor choice of words)
I fell I would fall hard.
I kept silence in my anger
For I could not admit
—least of all to her
That she knew me too well,
That she spoke truth.
Now I admit
—though only to myself,
That I am as susceptible as any
To human weakness.
I do not understand how I can be so driven,
So obsessed—
And over what?
One who has barely tolerated me;
One flawed in many ways.
Yet what I would not give for his sake!
Still I am angered—
Now more than ever,
At the foolish things that humans do
Merely to be with one another.
Still I am angered
At how well I can endure,
How well I can pretend,
Even how happy I can be
And how well I can go on with life,
While my thoughts are so far away.
I have fallen hard
And do not know which is more foolish:
my fall,
or my pretense.
Though I finally confessed
(Yet surely understated)
I still pretend to be immune
To all the rest of the world—
And only appear the stranger for it.
Monday morning
Feels like hell
Shouldn't start the week so exhausted
Cram all the chores in on the weekend
Don't have time for them on the weekdays
No time for living—just existing
I hate Mondays...
Harsh reality
Slaps me in the face
The weight of too many responsibilities
If not for working
If not for getting by
Might have time for all the rest
Might have time for a life
I hate Mondays...
Monday evening
Was when I finally told you
That I was rather fond of you
Monday evening
Was when you told me
(As politely as you could)
What I already knew
That you didn't care
Every Monday
Since that night
I've counted the lonely weeks go by
I walked out your door
And walked out of your life
But you won't leave my thoughts
I hate Mondays...
When we met
There was kindness in your smile.
You said I seemed familiar.
It is quite possible,
We had been at some of the same meetings,
Yet never before had met.
I've never trusted first impressions.
Probably because I ignore so much,
But the older I get, the more detail I notice,
The more reliable my intuition seems.
I've always liked to give misleading impressions.
I am confident enough that I don't care what people think,
And too complicated to figure out at first glance.
Let people underestimate me!
I like to surprise.
When we went around the room and introduced ourselves
You probably wondered what I was doing there—
You soon found out.
I soon learned to respect you.
I soon realized that I was headed down a familiar path;
I soon realized that I was falling for you,
And would not soon be over it.
You are quiet,
That intrigues me.
I discovered I was right:
There was kindness in your smile—
Yet mischievousness, too.
When you teased me
I hoped it was with affection.
When you said there was something you liked about me
You seemed to pull back
As though you had admitted too much.
That's how I wished to interpret it,
But I knew better.
I could see myself making the same old mistakes:
Believing what I wanted,
Inferring messages that were not there,
Misinterpreting friendliness.
Alas, my fate was sealed,
Since we met
And I saw kindness in your shy, sly smile.
So many things I might have been,
I could have done.
So many talents I have wasted,
Dead ends pursued.
But I have never been boring.
My life is not what I expected,
Yet it is satisfying.
I am fiercely independent,
I would never change or try to please another.
If someone could love me despite that,
—better, because of that,
I would be fiercely loyal.
I refuse to search for such a one,
Instead I rejoice in my solitude.
I am not immune from desire
But I am stubborn.
Our first meeting seemed providential
(Who am I to argue with Providence?)
Yet as the weeks went by
We did not speak.
I learned a little about him—
He seemed quite boring.
(Meanwhile I met another,
Exciting, attractive,
—Out-of-reach.)
As weeks turned into months
Still I saw him,
We spoke only in passing.
But I had the most frightening visions:
I have seen him sharing my responsibilities;
I have seen us together by the font;
I have seen a frumpy, middle-aged couple.
God forbid!
I do not want to be typical.
Perhaps I could share a life
Filled with travel and excitement and each other.
But not the boring domestic life,
Especially, God help me, no children!
Understand, then:
If I weep thinking of him
It is not because of longing,
Rather I despair my destiny.
Should I tremble when he is near
It is not because of desire,
Rather I am terrified of tedium.
Someday we'll look back on these years and laugh
At how we were afraid to speak to each other.
But I am not laughing now—
I am too scared.
Someday we'll regret the wasted time,
But will admit we were too busy,
Not yet ready in so many ways.
But I do not regret it now—
I've too much to do.
(So often I've wondered what I would have done
If I'd known then what I know now.
Would I have believed that pesky kid
A decade or two later would still be my friend?
Would I have paid more attention to our first conversations?
Would I have been any less annoyed?
If I'd known where I'd live and where I'd work
Would I have been more or less determined as a student?
Would I have been more or less pragmatic?
If I had known
Would it have mattered?
Would I have changed anything?
Would I have believed any of it?)
Someday we'll look back, amazed
How our ignorance allowed our fickle imaginations
To see the other as more fascinating or more boring
Than what we finally discovered.
But I am not yet amazed—
I'm too bored by my dreams.
Someday we'll tell how we first met,
How we knew what was to come.
Each time we tell our story, we'll marvel at our surety.
But I will not tell it now—
For I don't really believe it.
Someday, instead, will I look back on this and laugh?
Wondering what mix of wishful thinking and self-delusion
Led me to imagine a future that will never be?
But I'm not laughing now—
I'm still waiting.
He smiles,
His eyes are the blue of sun-drenched skies.
He tires,
They turn cloud-gray,
Storm-tossed.
Let night descend:
The stars come out,
Twinkling mischeviously.
I could lose myself in that boundless sky.
I could look long and deep and never comprehend
The mysteries of that heaven.
Oh, to bask in that bright blue!
To comfort that clouded clime...
Ah! But let night come—
Let me lie back, and linger,
Let me star-gaze for a while.
I miss you.
Though I've spent so little time with you
I've known you quite a while.
I want to see you again,
Though I'm not sure I want you to see me.
I want to talk to you
Yet when I have the chance I fear to speak.
I do not know you well
But I know you well enough to know
I'd like to know you better.
I am not in love,
But, ah! if somehow
You were to love me
I am quite convinced
Such love would be requited.
Your shyness makes me the one
Afraid to speak
(Lest I distrub you),
Until I am unable to utter
The barest of greetings.
The more I wish to learn of you
The further I retreat.
The resulting distance between us grows
But merely makes you seem more mysterious.
I wonder if you struggle, too,
And do not speak to me
Because you are just as fascinated,
Just as afraid.
I suspect that, at best,
I annoy you —
It is more likely, though,
That you never notice me.
Your quiet forms a void
Which I fill with songs of my own devising,
Songs likely to turn discordant
Were you to break your silence.
My ignorance of you
Forms a blank slate
Upon which I sketch my dreams,
Only for time and reality
To erase.
I keep a collection of mementos
Not tangible objects, but memes:
A clever phrase I picked up,
A helpful trick observed,
A curious habit acquired,
An interest in some new field.
Each one has become part of me
Yet always reminds me of the person
from whom I learned it.
I have several mementos from you:
There are performers and pieces I enjoy
Because of the instrument you play.
You introduced me to my favorite beer.
I view art exhibits I never would have known about
If you had not taught me.
I steal your lines and use your jokes.
You have influenced me in so many ways
Both profound and trivial,
Though you do not know it,
Though you couldn't care less.
Thank God I am no longer in love!
But you were my first love--
That is history now and cannot change--
Another bittersweet memory for the collection.
As the years go by
And memory discards the sorrows
I grow somewhat nostalgic;
I treasure these mementos.
Easily I fall
Yet never divulge but
Well conceal it.
Yet I know you know--
That annoys me
As much as the infatuation itself.
Still I tell you far too much--
I might as well,
You see through my defenses.
You are the exception
That tests the rule,
That finds the weakness in my barricade.
Never would I flirt,
But if I tease
It is only because I could not possibly be serious.
Even then I have always stayed within the bounds
Of propriety.
Yet I've shocked myself
At my shameless,
Even inappropriate, words
Which I've heard myself speak in your presence.
You are the exception
That tests the rule,
That turns my joking into innuendo.
My usual demeanor
Around one to whom I am attracted
Is silence and coldness
Lest I betray my secret.
I shun the touch of even my closest friends
And few there are whom I would willingly embrace.
Yet I do not shirk your arm about me
But respond in kind
And welcome even a kiss on the cheek.
You are the exception
That tests the rule,
That melts my iciness with the warmth of your hand.
Few there are whom I have known
That I have found of interest,
And fewer still there are
Who have dared show an interest in me.
Though few there are in those two sets
Fewer still there are who meet both criteria,
For the intersection is null--
Or so it always has been.
Yet I suspect
(I may be wrong but still suspect)
That your fondness for me
Is not unlike that which I have for you,
That n=1.
You are the exception
That tests the rule,
That changes the equation.
Never have I cared for children
For I cannot comprehend them.
I have never met your children
Yet I adore them--
I have only seen them through your adoring eyes.
Though I could never bear to bear children of my own
It seems to me a loss to humanity
That our DNA will never be blended.
You are the exception
That tests the rule,
That gives birth to new desires.
Always have I drawn a line
And those beyond declared off-limits.
Never would I consider one
Who belonged to another
Thus never could I fall
For one I could never attain.
Anyone whom I loved I would love rightly,
Should he love another I would rejoice for him,
For love that knows jealously or covetousness is not love.
You are the exception
That tests the rule by which I live,
That tests my resolve.
It had been so long since I had seen you last.
I had convinced myself there was no chance.
I was over you.
When I planned my trip
Certainly I hoped I would see you again,
But did not expect to.
When my friend invited you to meet us
I knew you'd have another excuse.
Sure enough, you had other obligations,
Which you said you'd cancel for my sake.
Alas!
Then, when we met,
You went out of your way to greet me with a hug.
You would not let me depart
Without another embrace.
Alas!
While you may have some affection for me
It is no more than friendly, I know.
Yet you know not what you do.
So, though it was not your intent,
You awakened longings I hoped had died.
For how could I,
Frumpy, grumpy me,
Ever hope to win one
As charming and handsome as you?
If only you had found another excuse
And I had not seen you again.
If only you were more reserved
And had kept your distance.
If only I truly were over you.
If only you did not stir up within me false hope.
Alas!
Yet...I take such delight in your smile!
And thrill to your embrace!
I would rather sigh for what will never be
Than be blessed with ignorance of you.
I could not wish to be free of those arms,
Though they held me far too briefly.
False hope it may be,
But I'll take whatever you deign to give.
The first time I knew that I was foolish;
This time I should have learned from my mistakes.
I should know better.
The first time the guy was only a couple of years younger than I;
This time I'm older by a decade.
Certainly I'm old enough to know better.
The first time at least I knew him well before I fell;
This time I only know him well enough to know we don't have as much in common.
While I wish I knew him better, I should know better.
I've never been beautiful;
The first time at least I was young.
Now I'm an old fool
Making the same mistakes of youth,
Falling for someone I know cannot possibly be interested in me.
Again I am misinterpreting friendliness or mere politeness
As something more,
Though I should know better.
Perhaps I have learned something:
The first time I wasted time and money
Making long-distance calls to one who'd never call me back,
Finding excuses to travel and visit friends,
Just to see him.
At least this time I've found someone local.
The first time I talked him into buying me a drink;
At least this time he voluntarily bought me two.
Yet that was foolish, too:
I stayed up far too late
(And got far too drunk)
Just so I could enjoy his company a little while longer
(Even while he was enjoying the company of someone else).
The first time we stayed up way too late without benefit of drink.
Perhaps this was better,
For I could enjoy the false intimacy of being drinking buddies.
He told me his sorrows,
I listened sympathetically,
Put my hand on his shoulder—
And pretended to forget, for that's the etiquette.
The first time I only dreamed that he grasped my hand,
This time he really did,
Though it was merely a friendly gesture—
And he was quite drunk,
So I have to pretend to forget that, too.
Still, it is more than I ever shared with my old friend.
Perhaps I did learn something from the first time:
I don't regret having been his friend,
I don't regret having said goodbye.
Sometimes I regret not letting him know how much I cared until it was too late.
Sometimes I regret not having flirted early on
Before I fell too hard,
When rejection would have been easy to take,
When it would have been possible to salvage the friendship.
I told myself next time I'd flirt,
Not push the guy away,
But give myself a chance,
Find out right away where I stood,
Then get over him before things got out of hand.
Yet here I go again...
At first I smiled a lot,
Tried to be charming,
But the more interested I become,
The more my instinct is to hide it,
The more I sabotage what little chance I have.
I should know better.
I pride myself on my intelligence,
As he well knows.
But does he know what a fool I truly am?
I suppose
It is better he should not know.
What's worse than unrequited love
Is love repressed and unexpressed,
Returned but unresolved.
Once I loved a friend who, I knew,
Did not think of me as more than that.
Though painful, I was able to move on
By telling him, by facing harsh reality--
I lost a friend, but kept my sanity.
Now the harsh truth will not help
Because I know he cares as much as I.
Though, dammit! he has no right.
Since we cannot speak the truth
We call each other "friend"--
But keep our distance,
Tacitly admitting it would be too dangerous
To be too close.
If we were free to speak,
To know each other well,
Perhaps this would have run its course
Long ago, and be but bittersweet memory.
Yet we cannot let each other completely go,
Which would make it so much simpler.
If only, like everyone else
We would eventually lose touch,
If only we could forget.
Intead, every few months we meet,
Catch up, reminisce, talk shop--
And sometimes hint at what we cannot openly admit.
Twice now we have said goodbye
Knowing that we really will not part,
But using that as our excuse
To say how much our "friendship" means.
Though we've shared nothing more intimate than an embrace
We've felt the longing in that bond,
The wondering of what might have been,
Of what we know can never be.
No matter what, sorrow is our lot:
It would be sorrow to lose my friend,
It is sorrow to know he is not mine,
But it would only be worse sorrow that could bring us together.
So I let him hold me long and tight--
We say goodbye, I'll miss you,
But no more than that.
He goes home to apologize for being out too late,
I go home alone.
O World!
I owe you an apology
For I have judged you,
Rather, I have mocked you.
I have made fun of you
and disdained you
and called you weak
and been bored by your stories.
Despite my protestations—
I am one of you,
I too am human.
I find myself sighing
For no good reason—
Or for the only reason that matters.
I cannot work,
I cannot sleep,
I am bored by life.
All I can do is sigh,
And long for what I do not have,
And try to find some reason for hope,
And try to find some excuse to call,
And write drivel that ordinarily I would despise.
So world,
Please accept my apology,
As I steal away and hide in shame.