No More ...
No more is he here to talk to me
To hold me, comfort me, or make me laugh
No longer can I run to him with my head in remonstrations
At the meanness of this big, bad world
That loves me not Shelters me not Like his arms do.
No more can I look forward to meetings
Where I'd be the light in his eyes
When he saw me.
Which would fill this heart with more delight
Than any gift a child ever knew.
No more can I listen to those songs,
Those fast beats which I have not been brought up on
But still felt so comfortable with.
No more will he whisper in my ears
About how happy he feels
About how happy we both must feel.
No more must I tell him I still love him
Or hope that fate has reserved for us
A sunrise, a glorious day
That will last and last
Till the sun sets down on our bodies
Held close together in a tight embrace.
With him how I could fight that world of monsters
Which traps me holds me to the ground
A child, timid, insignificant, alone, scared
At the wrath of the churning belly
Of this laughing, mocking world.
How could the same knight be a monster?
A monster that was only feeding his belly,
Like they say,
By helping me water my garden
Only to fill his basket with blossoms
Raping it of all its little sunshine and flowers
Once he had his fill.
How can I believe that he wasn't that kind
Strong-armed, broad shouldered giant
Heaving me up on the topmost branch.
And delighting in my squeals and peals of joy?
What kind of wretched turn has this story taken?
Not fit for my ears.
Not fit for any child's ears.
And yet while I awake, and hear, and listen.
I know it to be true.
And slowly the sleepy serpent of childhood withdraws
From around me.
And now I know
That this is what is termed as life.
My reluctant lungs inhale these flames
That choke me, absolutely choke me
Muffling the child forever.
Arise another broken vase
With sharp, uncut edges.