Are you my sister's keeper?

A NOTE: An older poem... thank goodness some hurts eventually heal!

Yes, I knew you once, Once long before the locusts came, You were beautiful And I was your confidant, your servant, your love, And whatever it is that lies in-between those In those days, plague could never claim you No man, certainly, could tame you, And I’d follow in your wake and chuckle to myself. Time wore on, but not you Your smile was still as platinum as a slightly clouded sunset With maybe a star or two showing already, or were they planets? And we grew closer Inch by inch, we came to stand within hearing of each other And persistently, you knew of my existence, Perhaps, looked with favor upon it, And judged not too harshly, lest ye be judged Yes, time wore on, but not you. Then the winter came to us, After those shortening autumn days, Confusion, deceit, treachery, misunderstandings, eloquence and lack of feeling Led you away for a time A time which was to be a chasm between us now Strike one, strike two for the band And who remains but the ones that didn’t go before? Love one, love another, Sickness, health, away from each other We don’t fathom what the other thinks And perhaps we didn’t before as well But we tried, didn’t we? And you can’t say you at least played around with me For I know better of the truths than do the specters. Worry not, faint heart never won fair maid, And was I ever faint or tarrying in love? Nay! My heart drew on like a chariot Plunging for the cliffs of Dover, For whatever the path led me to, I wouldn’t fall over that edge half-heartedly. So who can mend what Jack-be-Quick stole away From this Humpty-Dumpty who isn’t so daft as all that? Not I, for I was the one which broke it, I think Though as to that, it may have been broken To start with, only I couldn’t see the cracks in it at first And you, you who’s reading this, you don’t know, do you You can’t be sure if its you or not, can you? You didn’t know me quite well enough to be sure, I’m sure, And maybe you no longer care, but take heart, and know That it might not be one person, perhaps, but a dozen Who’ve failed me just as I’ve failed them, and A fair trade’s a fair trade, when all is said and done. Don’t be sad, dearheart, don’t quail At what life’s thrown to you at the present. I know of trials, not your own but mine, certainly, And many not even recorded in these electric pages For want of recovery. No, loved one, I couldn’t mean you, how could I? I loved you so, and still do, its not you, or you or you, but maybe you. I bear some bitterness like an anvil, so small it can’t even forge mule shoes But it weighs a decent amount, just the same, In this place I call the waiting game, In-between the stars And mud So who are you, and who am I in this vastness I call my life, to say hither or thither or yeah and anon and forthwith And elseways too? Not you, and not I myself to boot. Don’t fret, I’m still fretting for you, Got my guitar going too, To fret some songs for fretting needs music too, boohoo, Have your emotions escaped from the zoo? I need some time and space, Next to someone and far away From where I’ve been before I’m sure To wait another day out like a dog And sniff my destiny from among the fallen leaves Of the autumn we had together But my nose hardly works in the cold winter snow But the sniffing goes on, despite the year in-between And my heart’s not so mean as to be spiteful, instead, I smell for peace in the leaves and ripples on the waters Instead of tsunamis, my friends, is all I intend to do, Just wait it all out on a drizzling afternoon With the winter winds blowing the other way Against our ruffled memory. Mark Burton Wednesday, December 27, 2000  0200 hours