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.