Tearing Down The Marble Arch
I set down, my favorite seat
facing north, a symbol of freedom-
a new country was before me, laid out
a stellar map of earth and wood, God's country.
I was founded that day, a new wind rose within me,
telling me to venture there, to go beyond
that which had held me at a distance. For so long,
I begged for death in mindless ramblings,
thoughtless prayers to God, or someone more unwilling to listen-
At this point, the past matters not, did you know that?
I glanced from my seat towards the crack in the window,
a matrix reborn of itself- mirror image
I, the elect heart, who forged it all with a tear.
I remember, I used to tear at your seams, invisible,
you rarely notice the way I move, or sway through this room
like a ghost's reflection in a well of water-
I see the past this way,
you notice the ripples, don't you?
and I, the voice of one wind you can never answer.
I walked the cemetery, last night in my dream, you were there
standing beside your tomb, the rock had moved, been rolled away
and it was I now, laying in the grave-
you were always more angelic, more full of something-
I dare not call it life.