My early life seemed always
to play the same old song.
I lived a decades-long phase
where I was told “You’re wrong.”
Everything I did or said
was corrected or changed.
It at last went to my head.
I felt foolish and deranged.
In my effort to change my life
I took another way.
I dumped corrective strife.
It seemed foolish to stay.
Now I see the truth of my strange and weird way:
I’m at last honest. Now I must be certain of what I say.
I don’t care who knows/
what I did wrong. I can then/
speak of repentance.
People can talk in/
Temples. *They may whisper or/
speak. It’s all worship.
OR
…*They may whisper, speak,/
sing. All is worship.
She lets her silence/
speak for itself. As always,/
we know what that means.
I was so glad to/
be able to say something,/
I didn’t let you.
Were we still together
Going off to bed
I might lean over
And kiss your sleepy head
Or tenderly caress
Your soft bright cheek
And ease your stress
With gentle words that I speak.
We’re now miles apart,
Yet I still long to say
Sweet words and kind thoughts
To help close your day.
My feelings have grown since I went.
Why should a night away be different?
I hope to speak with you again,
to assuage your worries,
to calm your fears,
to unravel your confusion,
to illuminate your path,
to enfold your shoulder,
to hold your hand.
to provide the goo
so desired by you.