We cannot stop these bitter tears.

Nor the grief that is ours

For so much lost.

But we can count blessings found.

And here where sorrow is well observed

We’ll plant on fertile ground.

Tree of Hope, forgiveness for our sins.

Tree of Love, a gentle touch to ease these pains.

And I am like an orphan on the street.

And I just a song upon the wind.

And you have walked through fire to come so far.

And seen the pain of loss and scars this brings

I cannot promise much, life stole my youth.

But have the joy, the care, the love of touch,

This ambrosia of friendship and prayers to give.

And I would walk the land so wild and free

Come walk sweet child sweet heart sweet love with me.

And you…..will you remember me?

Because sometimes it seems I am already gone.

Lost when he never came back.

And like the wind changing nothing was the same again.

For how much was walking away from that pain?

That I could only take with me.

And yet blistered feet bring relief.

Distraction in blood or puss.

And the road that goes on promises so much,

A thousand illusions, none as real as those we cannot touch.

But old men tire. And Denny can’t cycle anymore.

And bones refuse to play this escaping game.

And somehow you know there is nowhere far enough away.

And for some reason you realise that there is no running fast enough away.

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. Not sure how to participate? Here are the steps to get started.

via Strategy — The Daily Post

via Daily Prompt: Strategy

We looked into each other’s eyes,

Wondered what it was safe to say.

Afraid………

How much is enough to say?

Or careless give too much away.

But I care little for keeping cards close to my chest.

Care little for waiting and games.

See how poorly I play.

See how poorly I play.

And she turns and turns away.

Clint Eastwood was her strategy that day

 

Does the Sahel know you?

Remember this beauty as you passed?

And sing of you in these tireless winds.

In the dry lands that run on.

And don’t these cloudless skies recall you,

Saharan stars that shone on your gentle steps

For they saw the hopeful brightness of your heart

And the shimmering gossamer of spirit- Love.

And I will remember you, a broken man who saw you,

A fool on the road side, crushed and done.

And I will remember you oh Yemeni Princess.

For the beat of your heart helped me on.

This is about love and the price of that.

It was about hope maybe careless belief.

Naive faith that I could lift a cross and not be broken.

But I am broken already: these cracks in my heart.

And so I have failed you by arrogance and misunderstanding my love.

And the desert will leave no trace of this.

No memory of love etched into these shifting sands.

And silence will be all that is left of us.

Or the whisper of ghosts passing unnoticed on the paths we took.

Oh God what has become of us.

Where is the Yemeni Princess?

Where the man she knew?

My Love we are gone.

Burnt out like abandoned funeral pyres.

Cut down from crosses too hard for us.

And I am lost in the wind

And you returned to your tomb.

We knew it must come to this.

Failure and loss no redemption here.

What was expected comes to pass.

Love: wasn’t that just a careless illusion

Hope: something you knew never to trust.

For it all goes wrong in the end.

And you were waiting for this moment

Ready with a snort of derision

When we had come all this way that you would see something beautiful.

That we might be like others are: friends and lovers.

But it seems actions have no meaning and fears walk with flesh.

And I cannot argue with illusion.

Nor deny this failing.

Cannot sleep without you, though you are long gone.

Perhaps I was too slow to keep up with you.

Perhaps too old to care.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter any more.

Except

No one can ever replace you and I will mark this loss ’til the end

And pray for that to be quicker now you’re gone

Do not forget the song of the Yemeni Princess.

Cry of a child taken from golden lands

Far from these palaces of a distant childhood.

Lost to the wilderness and land of eternal winds

Parted from pomegranate trees and the love of a father.

To be an exile in a hostile world,

Stolen from friendship and a brother’s games.

Torn from these childhood stories of joy

And found only with a heart broken

Yet clasping still these shards of hope and broken dreams.

And remembering still the love of a distant man

And in the beginning we are like little princes for all foxes are the same to us.

But now I know your face and nothing can replace that,

I know your voice, that in its gentleness caresses me with honeyed tones.

And in this I know redemption.

But too your anger is barbed wire that tears across my heart as if you hate me.

But I know you my love and remember the pull of you in the beginning.

This desire to know more, this hope that your heart would be beauty to me

And the dream that you would save deep smiles and warmest gazes for me.

And I know you my love for I have looked on your for hours.

I have walked by your side waiting to hear each note of your voice.

Hoping that your words would bless me and your heart call to mine.

Even in the night when you were gone I hoped for your song like a call of whales across dark oceans.

Like a memory of love in the crowed alienation of our lonely city.

For I know you my love and would know you more 

Come now: walk with me this while.

(With thanks to Antoine de Saint – Exupery “The Little Prince”)

And though you thought it mattered all these things.

Ran fast up mountains as if that would change the world.

And though you thought if you tried hard enough or were good enough this could change.

No: water pours down the mountain and the sun sets.

So do not tilt at windmills or set your heart at changing the tide,
Rather learn where love may grow and where these flowers bloom.

And look for sun that will warm your heart and not burn your fragile skin.

And listen not to words of anger and rejection.
But hear the song of the morning the whisper of creation.

The lapping tide of our breath flowing over us in this morning of love in this day when we are beautiful and stand fearless at last.

For we saw in our eyes a promise of acceptance a hope of forgiveness a glimmer of belonging.

And we heard a chorus of angels the promise of a new day this baptism of love.