When I grew up here, I was a child. Five years old
with arms for telescopes and atlases for eyes.
You called each dirty country road your hometown.
You - an adult I admired. Someone who taught me
the maps to happiness and the building blocks to
conquer the darkness that wanted to dance close by.
I grew...
Summers in dresses and praying for good crops and
running through the farmlands turned into dancing
and music and middle-of-the-night lullabies -
you taught my hands freedom in those black and white
keys, in the silence of the saints and the raspy pews
where we sat trying to summon courage out of each other;
no one saw your passion like I did.
Your thoughts stained my voice until I bled and blossomed
the same way you did.
We sketched out the impossible and carved it in stone...
Each night I kneeled at my bedside pleading for God
to protect you when those 3 AM sirens rang and you
stumbled out of bed fiercely determined to save a life.
Each morning I woke up thankful to be alive another
day so I could only wish the best for you, hoping that
the sunrise was the first melody on your tongue too.
People gossiped in and out of the confines of the sanctuary,
of our holy place. They told me you were too far away.
Your music only consisted of the sound of angels because
you failed to realize your own demons still were in control.
I listened but didn't believe. Of course you had faults but
they didn't know you, see beyond the curtains closing and
when God and I were all ears for your lofty and beautifully
childish dreams.
Mother guessed it for herself. She simply whispered to me
one night when I had no self-control over my tears,
"you love him, don't you?" and all I could do was nod again and
again as the ropes tying my heartstrings kept fraying.
Nineteen years old, I never knew I would be capable of loving,
that I could discern the difference between want and need
and lust and sacrifice and fantasy and evidence.
You were all the proof I ever asked for...
The most godly, devoted man I had ever known.
Praise echoed out of your lungs into my typewriter
breath and I found a new way to live, a stronger way
to banish the darkness from my bones and
rise from the ashes.
And these ashes, I'll carry with me.
Even if it means I can't forget loving you...
-
To T
Found this poem from 6/02/16 and wanted to post it. Only did minor editing on it but wanted to keep most of it the same as I wrote it in the moment and it's very honest/open. I almost forgot I had written this.
