11/24/10

I can count on it, 
like I can count on this 
frigid weather 
every morning, 
catching in my lungs. 
When the sun seems to be 
failing 
in its efforts to rise, 
to shed that 
blessed light, 
and warm these 
frozen insides. 

I'll hear you calling 
when you're struggling 
again 
to find the best in you, 
like I always did 
before.  
I have to give credit; 
at least you know 
what I'm good for.   

I could always pick you apart 
into smaller pieces still. 
Your layers of meaning
leaving me 
simply perplexed 
every time. 
I never had 
my fill.

You can count on it 
like you can count on 
your boundaries 
keeping you in.
You'll order me 
to lay down 
as the street 
below your feet.  
It isn't you 
I have to blame; 
this is the way 
I've trained you 
to be.
[AND IF I'M SUCH A LIGHT, 
THEN WHY DO YOU RUN FROM ME?] 

You'll count on it, 
I know, 
just like you count on this 
frigid air. 
Just say when and where. 
Without hesitation, 
I'm there.

We are not steadfast. We are not extraordinary. This furious current will insist. It's all been swept away without a trace of any kind of yesterday.