In a mood of attestation, I am aggrieved by your loss of hearing.
I wonder why it is that you do not hear me so,
Why you flounder when I say your name,
As if I had spoken of something terrible, and long since buried?
There is testimony in every word I speak, not for you ears
Alone, but for all that would hear the familiar resonance
Of continuity biting at the tail of existence;
Disarming the folly of the distant stars
As if they were but signals to an untrained eye.
This thing you do with your hands,
Does it help you with you failing grasp,
You determination to be absent from that which
You know you create?
Does your lack of touch lessen your ability to tend to
The garden of your soul, to enrich it with the loam
Of memories past, of lives lived before and after?
Unwilling to deadhead what does not grow,
Will not encourage new growth, new horizons
With which to crown your head.
The earth will shift beneath your feet as you sit
In resolute awareness, awaiting your final battle.
Deaf to the cry of waking day,
And numb to the scars of darkest night.
If I should bow to you as Queen my love, then you
Must grant me one more wish, to rise to your
Weakness and fight it no more.