A Poem From The Archive
What follows is a poem I wrote YEARS AGO called ‘Bluebelle and Sunshine’, during a time when I was still under the delusion that social networking was a good thing for humans to utilize. There was a women there named (I think) Trina Puck who mentored me, briefly, on crafting good poetry. She turned out to be a bit of a nutcase, as has happened with most of my attempts to interact with women over the years, and the experience taught me a lot about the value of looking before you leap and not assuming everything you’re being told on FB is the gospel truth. Ever since, I’ve tried to be supremely cautious about the people in whom I place my trust. The lessons are long and slow, however, and I’ve forgotten them quite a bit over the intervening years, but the fact remains that I used to be a bleeding heart romantic and would fall for women who would take advantage of that relentlessly.
That said, the best creative works often come from the most troubled minds, so I am glad she helped me craft this bit of verse. If you have any comments, feel free to leave them at your leisure.
Bluebelle and Sunshine (March 8, 2010)
I lay down in bed next to you
and felt tears vibrate
through your skin.
At first, I wanted to play Jesus;
to put my hand over your heart
and will an exchange,
your pain for my tenderness —
but I am not Christ.
I realized that I could not
play god in this, our space.
I had to let your tears flow
like beads of rain on the window
in front of us, like drops of water
spilling from the potted flowers
just outside, like the flecks of moisture
being shaken from the trees
by gentle wind.
I could not give you this.
I could only let you taste
the bitterness of your own despair
until such time as I might prove able
to sweeten the flavor.