To Move Again

I move again; muscles too long
stilled within a winterís hush;
they stretch and bend, regaining
all the suppleness of spring.

Another round of otherís anger
seems to have come and worked itself out
through me Ė only to leave me yet again
in a blur of tears that speak of pain unending.

Is it mine or yours?
Within this blur, I cannot say for sure.
I only know that Iím the only one between we two
that stays awake again to feel its passing
and to express it that it might not come
to pass through me again.

More and more it seems to me
that you must hold these patterns
of anger, sorrow, pain,
somehow within yourself,
sacrosanct within your being
because for all Iíve said
and all the times you told me you had listened
it seems that what Iíve said means nothing
much at all to you.

Even now, when once again you speak
of dreams that you and I once sought
to make into reality so true.

And yet I move again; muscles
too long stilled within a winterís hush;
they stretch and bend, regaining
all the suppleness of spring...

? Michaelette ?

4/28/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...