Almost a Love Song

[JacobPike]

Almost a Love Song (7/17/83)

There are things I cannot say,
for, if I ever speak them,
they would break the equilibrium
that holds our fragile path.
For I know my role full well,
just a friend and not your lover,
and the words to break the balance
are the things I cannot say.

There are things I cannot say.
When we walk along together,
how many others, watching,
see a couple passing by?
But I walk on the shadowside.
the place in light beside you empty.
And I slip a half-step back for
all the things I cannot say.

There are things I cannot say,
for however could I tell you
that, on waking, I thank heaven
that someone like you is near?
How, in countless times past midnight,
when we sat and shared our secrets,
how I longed to reach out to you,
draw you ever to my side?
But a gulf stands there between us,
never one of my own choosing.
And the words to help me bridge it
are the things I cannot say.

There are things I cannot say,
for I know the time is coming -
one you wait for will appear and
join you on your sunlit way.
And I'll return to shadowside,
and take myself far from your home,
where, on some crowded city street
or mountain path I'll see your face,
remember you as you sat laughing,
or walked quietly by my side.
Hold to it until you fade,
until your voice is lost to me...
Until these very words I write
have turned to things I'll never say.

June 9, 2005

[pinerow]

1. Lost loves are a recurring subject on this site...including

my own stuff...goes to show that people are pretty much the same along the continuum we call the Human race.

[JacobPike]

2. Lost love? Maybe.

This was one of what I call "time-travel" poems. I try to put myself at the moment in question (indicated in this case by the date in the title), and attempt to evoke my exact thoughts and feelings at that moment. In this case, it was the moment almost twenty-two years ago when I finally realized that I had to stop pretending that the other character in the poem and I were "just friends," finally admit to myself that I had been in love with her for some time, and know that it would damn near kill me when she finally "found someone."

A key part of a time-travel poem is that you don't let your knowledge of what was to come in the future color your recollection. In this case, what seemed to me at the time as very clearly an ending turned out to be just another chapter in a story that, like Tolkien's road, goes ever on and on. But that could be, and very well may be, the subject of many another poem.

[pinerow]

3. Let me correct myself...

not so much "lost loves" as opportunities to connect that were never fully realised; it does not diminish the feeling one bit. Although, if one does not recognize "what is" as opposed to what we "want"; then it becomes a bit more problematic.