Last night I heard the eerie screech of bats,
Looked up in time to see a falling star
Plunging to its death in cold December air.
I thought of you in that moment of despair…
You would never guess how frequently
I think of you, flying silently in shadows of my head.
I think of ways you come and go as seasons,
Passing restless days in unraveled reason.
I hear your promises that lie,
Empty words and vows
Vanishing as fast as reckless stars.
I think of the way you sleep in bed,
Give yourself so cheaply to a whore,
So devoted to your need to cling—
So unforgiving in your loathing,
Yet costly expertise abundantly
Paid out in cold attachment and refusing.
I thought of the way you love to hate,
The manner in which you limp along,
Complicate lives of those you say you love—
So quietly command they cannot hear
Yet slice their hearts in two— make impossible to heal.
One day when the funeral’s over,
All contradictions exposed—
Eventually the wheel will slowly turn.
Yet even then you’ll haunt like bats at dusk,
Draw blood as you look down upon the scene,
View the wreckage coldly if you please.
I only hope and pray you’ll be amazed
At poignant bravery of those you leave behind.
If God be kind, they’ll catch a glimpse of truth—
See appalling consequence of hate,
And their tears, flowing like a hurting river….
Jarring glacier grinding stone to silt,
Will slowly free the blockage in their hearts—
Untying them from you.