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He was my friend, that autumn
When the wind blew so distant, and so cold.
My friend, and night time my lover to hold
In bittersweet loving, alone.
The town refused to accept him,
They didn't understand or see.
While I in my silent loneliness
Saw the agony he was forced to be.
Oh distinctly I remember
His gentleness of manner touching me;
As I in earthly bondage, ached to go
Up with the cold north wind that blows,
His kindness the only love I'd ever known.
Yet even as he held me by his side,
The night wind would call him, bid him come.
(His restlessness a burden unovercomed.)
He was my friend, that much I know.
Yet even as I felt forbidden joy,
I could not ask, to keep him evermore.
The longing that drew him far from me
Darkness and pain his one reality,
Till at last he kissed me with unshed tears,
He left, returned once more to what he feared.
But in the end, the town could not let him be.
Is he now at last, at least at peace.
I can but hope, but never pray.
The answers I could give, but forced to sway.
The tomb, they guard it both day and night.
Tend roses' and hawthron around about.
With garlic, holy water priest sealed the door.
They wait and pray him dead, he only sleeps
Till the freedom of the night once more is his.
(1982)
Tobbie WhiteBird Crowe
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