I'm not out to project my own down going.
I love him whose soul is fickle despite chance
As the world's retort.
When they told me how you got cut
I bought enough drugs to put monster under
and celebrated for the both of us.
They weren't my limbs that were lost
but I reached for and sprinted towards
a wholesome grief
and couldn't carry it all.
Took me a month to even talk
Poetry sounds so selfish
When you are needed to help another walk.
The first night, a friend had called
Said, "Get it all out
For tomorrow you have to be strong."
Sorry ain't enough and my sorrow's only purpose
is as a reminder for what needs to be done
And to forget about any lesser want.
My darling, I can't know without losing my leg
In a hit and run
But I know now you wear the same smile as before
My god how could I have known something
With such a fragile frame
Could be so tough.
Most folks, myself, a poet included,
Speak of greater reasons
And ponder tragedy's meaning.
Like us,
She knows she doesn't deserve all she is made to
Suffer.
And I've found the greater ungodly glory
Most folks are looking for
In her unbroken joy.