Wolf and the Owl
Poetry, Lyrics, Translations
and Musings by Alex Etchart

The Cross

By on Saturday 19th May, 2012

You crucified me
Though you did not know it
For I did not show it
I cried behind closed doors
So you would only see my smile
I wanted to thank you
For showing me paths through the woods and into my heart
But I cannot be so cruel as to let you know how the arrow feels

I’d pull it out but I’m afraid
Its serrated head is caught on arteries and veins
That feed the heart and brain
The blood with which it sees, feels, thinks
It’s easier to die slowly
Vegetate sedated in daydreams
While my spirit leaks like myst through the seams

Did I build, bear and bury the cross myself?
If so how, could you have hammered the nails in
If you did not mean to
But this can’t be all a dream, too!?
There must’ve be an external force
Be it a trigger, a catalyst, a fire-lighter
That came as an apparition bearing your name

I’m cross
I’m angry
At me for being so susceptible
At the world for contriving to teach this way
At you!
For being so sweet, innocent, wise and kind
Fuck off!
Thats not what I need…

Worst of all I cant go on a binge, a relapse
A cringe return to selfish reckless schemes
For to do so would be to blaspheme on everything you taught me
Which one day will be all I have left of you to carry on my way

So let us cross this bridge this day, in the lukewarm light of May
I’ll allow June to brand these tears into my muscle memory
That I might exercise my ability to feel this pain
On demand, that I might harness joy just the same
Maybe one day reign the entire emotional range
Through necessity, and in equanimity, use it to inspire change
Both in myself and in those with whom I will cross ways.

Posted in: Panamoury, Poems

Blog owner, singing/strumming person, word speaker, community arts make-happen-er, eco-baby.

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