When I was young I was tired

when I grew up I couldn’t sleep

now with the wind behind me I walk

in knots of pain, but without ache

it is a strange kind of benediction, this life

that when we dim our mad-flutter and seek love

people turn their faces away

strange and unfamiliar when they should

be well known

and still the wind blows northerly

and still the moon ebbs her patina glow

something sorrowful and blushing glorious

where glass cruelty doesn’t sting as hard

as those tender years where searching became

a drug and all doors had rusted hinges

now there are fewer doors and no locks

just the sound of the swollen river

rushing endless and in all direction

a chorus of grief turned wild

feral women climbing trees in torn stockings

leaving smudges of their assent

like the rubbed auburn of a fox

turning corner

almost unseen.

4 Replies to “Almost unseen”

  1. Almost unseen,
    but only almost,
    and for those who see
    with the eyes of friendship, of love,
    beauty to behold
    and whether in romance or friendship
    the words of a song
    make more sense
    than once they did

    “But it’s a long, long while from May to December
    And the days grow short when you reach September
    And I have lost one tooth and i walk a little lame
    And I haven’t got time for waiting game

    And the days turn to gold as they grow few
    September, November
    And these few golden days I’d spend with you
    These golden days I’d spend with you”
    [September Song – Kurt Weill]

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