You Are Upset With Me, Sorry I Tried Poem by James McLain

You are upset with me, sorry I tried
To carve my path beyond your shadowed crest,
Yet here you linger, tide unspent and wide,
Waves in the dusk that never find their rest.

His dual diagnosis—hope and fear,
Interlaced threads that weave and tug me down;
My thread is silver, one in shades unclear,
As I wear this broken-hearted crown.

George is broken, too, lost in the drift—
Two souls, each cracked and softened by blow's,
Leaning on edges, seeking some slight lift,
Holding tight fragments, staying up all night.

I reach for hands that slip like water's grace,
Grief's silent fingers leaving lines of gray,
In every shadowed room, each empty space,
With ghosts of words I never meant to say.

You are upset with me, though I have tried
To fill your silence, mend the fractured glass,
Yet sorrow grows when healing turns aside,
And love itself must watch the darkness pass by.

What lies unspoken rests within your stare,
A cold companion, close and infinite,
That drinks the light from even tender care,
Leaving hearts to mourn their broken wit.

So I wander where your shadowed gardens lie,
Seeking a flower that might bloom in the frost—
Only to find a tear upon the sky,
Bound to the love we tried, the hope we lost.