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Untitled II
Ellen Williams |
I would contort, I'd condescend
Think not twice that I would bend.
I'd break my stride and then fall back
I'd throw the race and trail the pack.
I'd cleave in two and split my soul
And barter half for lumps of coal.
I'd give false oaths, I'd honor thieves,
And question what my heart believes.
I'd give up body, will and thought
For this release that can't be bought.
It's not to answer why or how
Her life was then, her death is now.
I long instead to know what passed
Behind her shadowed eyes of glass.
A silent gaze that swept the room:
Four walls, a door, a chair: a tomb.
I held her hand and smoothed her hair,
And on my face she'd fix her stare.
But no voice could she awaken
To soothe the fear I'd been forsaken.
No smile or wink to reassure,
No recognition I was hers.
I think of then and wonder yet
What did she think when our eyes met?
But this answer I can't have.
This open wound will not be salved.
For take a ring and pick the spots
Where it commences, where it stops.
There's no beginning and no end
No riddle solved for me, my friend.
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