Friday, December 23, 2005

a man

He tries
to feel

to feel for
he wants to

but knows he’ll never keep

he walks alone
such clever words
and says

this is enough -
his bitter laughter

just barely
drowning out
the hollow ringings
his own words make

his beating heart
for brilliant wit
long since traded in
and if he’s fast enough

he will not notice
the odd old beat

his hidden chest

his mirthful eyes,
so sadly beautiful to watch
they see all
who need compassion,
but who in turn

will show him none
and will mock -
those who could show him any.

and sometimes
very briefly

in those blue eyes
there is the boy
who never did grow up
who, when he looks at you
the bitter mirth is gone
and standing there

just standing
all alone

is the man
and wonderful.

(for an irishman)

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