Thursday, June 30, 2011

Glass

Sir, you ask, and ask again
and look as though you expect my words
to come with ease; but I am unversed
and slow in speech; I have not the means
to speak falsely, lie, nor confess
my heart, which is a cavernous room,
its corners unknown to me.

If I could describe these darkened drapes, or drab fortress
built of ice-blown stone; if I could run your hands
over the cold climbs and show you rivers dammed, and salt-rocks
densely packed to stop all visitors -- would you turn back?
The walkway has not been cleared in a year
and the snow is solid-packed.

But here, at the window, with you looking in
and I, gazing out, a glance through the glass--
one hand to the frame, fingers grasping
at smooth surfaces. Again, again, you tap the pane --
Which way inside? your lips have asked,
and I try to draw the curtains, but can't,
so I am left to fog the glass.

2 comments:

Bethany Elizabeth said...

Wow - this is really, really good! The last line gave me shivers. You write so beautifully! It's very inspiring.

rtlindstrom said...

"If I could describe these darkened drapes, or drab fortress
built of ice-blown stone;"

I would create a map with the honey of your words,
I would come for you

"If I could run your hands over the cold climbs and show you rivers dammed, and salt-rock
densely packed to stop all visitors -- would you turn back?"

I would climb if they were paved in daggers,
I would batter the greatest dams to let loose
all the happiness and feeling the world holds,
and build bigger the dams against hurt and heartache.
I would blast away the salt-rocks
and pave the way with the light of my heart.
I would come for you.

"The walkway has not been cleared in a year
and the snow is solid-packed."

Where we go, we need no paths.
We will soar through the crags, gambol down the climbs.
The rivers will become tranquil at the touch of
our feet and we shall know happiness thither--
I would come for you.

Sunlight shall enter in--

-Robert Lindstrom