How? (Vision of You)
Beauty that whispers to me.
Wild ways speak as loud as her sharp eyes look.
Sharp eyes behind heavy lids,
modest lips with their own instinct.
With these lips, she told me:
No dam is so tight that water will never get through.
I want to be soft for her. A gift to us both.
How was it she came to know
that these past few years
my mornings were a cycle of
lying near my window
in a ball, soaking in the quiet blue air
yes, that dark morning blue,
speaking into my own ear, asking
why I must face life by myself?
I had forgotten it was I who said it was so.
I taught Me not to cry
Just as I taught Myself to wonder
I taught Me to seethe
silent with rage
To remain solid through sheets of pouring
confusion
I built the dam
The way an animal does.
Beast of no known place.
Cowardly,
quietly,
in the dark,
thinking it bold.
If I had looked into the water
and seen a vision of you
with the reflection of I
I would not ask myself why,
why the water poured through just then.
