In the Way He Can

Hurting
An agony of heart and spirit
The chill ocean depths
The musty suffocating cave
a devil that ensnares though I struggle not
More weight...more weight, the stones press down

A pain not remotely understood--
Time and place have seen to that
And he knows not what to do
Or how to cure the ill that ails me
The magic combination of words and gestures
that may make or break existence


Tear-stained and choked
I struggle and beg, grasping out for something,
for anything--
a scrabbling handhold on the mountain
a truth that will clear the confusion
a sign pointing the way to feathered blue hope.

And he--with ever a sailor's eye to the horizon--
notes the impending storm.
Backpeddling out of the sightlines,
donning Harry's cloak as he goes.

Can't lay blame.
Really can't.
He's tried and failed
Countless of times
And knows better now...


Abandoned to grief,
I concentrate on the sound of my ragged breathing
Whilst he lays down tracks 
betwixt him
and the chaos that is me.

Safely distanced, unencumbered, 
a sigh of relief.
 his soul still intact, thank god.
Yet across the divide, 
a song echoes forth, some disembodied text,
a grounding link of laughter,
like the sun through lace curtains.

A reaffirmation of a belief in fairies,
it's what I needed to know.
And he loves me 
in the way he can.