They say a tree that never bends will break
And I would have, my love,
If you hadn’t been the gentle wind nudging me in the right direction.
A tongue tied yet you always knew what to say
It’s like, my love,
We’ve broken every curse that binds us
So we could be bound to each other.
I
Am the poet,
And you are the one blessed with the magic of tunes.
I become one with the lyrics
And if you don’t like the music,
You don’t listen to a word coming out.
But you listen to my music-less poetry
as if I were Calliope herself.
My love…
I have walked my whole life
With shoulders slouched,
Burdened by the weight of the world.
But you are taking that pain apart,
One continent at a time
As you’ve been doing your whole life.
My love,
I curse the people who broke your back,
And I lay my whole world at your feet;
Barren lands,
Dried oceans and all…
I lay my world at your feet,
Trusting that your words will water my rotten gardens
And your smiles will be the sunshine
warming up an age
of ice and storms.
Knowing
That your hands will carry
What these hands have carried,
What these shoulders have been burdened with
Since before I learned that hands could mutilate
And arms could bleed
And shoulders could break
And necks could snap with the dangle of a rope.
Your hands
Will stop the arms
And heal the wounds.
Set the breaks
And never
Allow a rope
To hang in our home.
