If this vow of affection is simply true
Don’t tell me why you had to speak it:
A spell was settling and you had to break it,
I know, for it would chill and entomb you.
A fate some ghost from your past was weaving,
Her lips once offered, then snatched away
Perhaps…A warmth whose feeling is believing,
That you sensed, before all, in the light of day.
No… like driftwood washed to an island
Where thick-rooted green sets free the bough,
You suffer in silence, and sing to me, now,
A lament for a time undead, at hand.
For truth, like poetry, must come from the heart,
As honest as tears that slip to the floor,
As plain to the sense as Cupid’s dart.
I hear truth’s beat, a wounded roar
That floods through your transparent art
To reach where waters surge and pore:
With open arms, and with knowing heart,
From here to forever, I come to your shore.
In memoriam Peter Allen
Monday, September 3, 2007