Telling You

If a word could mean something
And gather strength, like
The hurt now gripping me,

Then I would add others
And hurl them
That you might know

This pain you gave yourself
The power to assign to me.
I would tell you what withdrawal

Means, your premises vacated
Before my arrival could be arranged.
I would tell you too the sound

Of silence a phone can make.
Only then would I share with you
The dream from long ago,

The robed woman who stepped
From the forest, seeking to ease
Me from the forced camaraderie

Of driven young men,
And of my foolish trust that allowed
Her to leave me lost among the trees.

June 2003