09-05-2013, 08:37 AM
With eyes as used as spent bullet casings
he glares at her in unseen and silent reproach,
unable to voice his bitter protests
lest her pain overwhelm her once more.
Tenderness for her rides his anger -
a cowpoke busting a maddened bronco -
until his rage is spent and tamed.
Anguish coats his throat
holding back barbs and retorts,
damming them, and damning him
to a continued existence he hates -
another day of desperate duty
another night of marital distance -
then he must rise once more
and trudge off through bitter cold
and unfulfilled dreams
until he cracks, or caves, or dies.
He laces his boots tightly
strangling his ankles in silent metaphor
all too aware of the path he has taken,
mistakes he has made, choices unchosen.
The long road behind him from a place
where screams go unheard,
the rocks and potholes ahead
showing both a one-way sign
and a dead end.
Yet more than his weariness,
more than his concerns over material things,
and even more than his distrust of Fate
what guides his actions is the love he feels
every time she looks at him
and the icy grip around his heart
melts away a little bit more.
For this and this alone,
he pushes his way out into the world once more
trusting in Love to bring him home.
he glares at her in unseen and silent reproach,
unable to voice his bitter protests
lest her pain overwhelm her once more.
Tenderness for her rides his anger -
a cowpoke busting a maddened bronco -
until his rage is spent and tamed.
Anguish coats his throat
holding back barbs and retorts,
damming them, and damning him
to a continued existence he hates -
another day of desperate duty
another night of marital distance -
then he must rise once more
and trudge off through bitter cold
and unfulfilled dreams
until he cracks, or caves, or dies.
He laces his boots tightly
strangling his ankles in silent metaphor
all too aware of the path he has taken,
mistakes he has made, choices unchosen.
The long road behind him from a place
where screams go unheard,
the rocks and potholes ahead
showing both a one-way sign
and a dead end.
Yet more than his weariness,
more than his concerns over material things,
and even more than his distrust of Fate
what guides his actions is the love he feels
every time she looks at him
and the icy grip around his heart
melts away a little bit more.
For this and this alone,
he pushes his way out into the world once more
trusting in Love to bring him home.
"In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite." - Paul Dirac (1902 - 1984)