Requiem

A tragically flawed one, perhaps,

But it was all we had

And it sufficed.

You were blind, and I,

I was a poet.

And painted them

On the waiting canvas of your mind.

You could not accept

What you could not understand

And the serpent was loose in the garden again.

At last, a passionate convert

To the purity of the visions

You felt to be so uniquely and personally yours,

You came to know me all too well

And robbed me of my mystery.

Now that you possess

And the secret names I called the Muse

When first I came to love her,

What have I left to share with you?

After such knowledge, what forgiveness?

What worlds am I to lead you to now,

A blind girl who has stolen my poetry?

If you can no longer hear

The song in my heart,

You will have to sing one for yourself.

Our love, dissected like some frog,

Is understood so well

That it is hard for us to see

That now, its jumping days are over.