You know you want to … but can you?
You say you will … but you don’t
or you try and try … then walk away
and tell yourself tomorrow – tomorrow’s the day
But your clock is moving backward
On its own tomorrow doesn’t come
and those scenes mulling in you on a slow boil
– their voices pleading – won’t fade
and if they ever do a part of you … will have died
So excavate the useless parts
– break the hardpan that stonewalls the felt truth
– drain off the sloppy quicksand of old regret
– excise the malignant need and surrounding puss
Get down on your knees till you can crawl
into that tunneling wound
to better hear those voices that have always been
variations of a chorus with a common refrain
their long-strained dissonances more and more refined
So then try on your own to learn
how to sing through pain as they have done
how to join your song with theirs
deep hidden in that mine
– Eugene Marckx