I have walked, Alone
Most often, when I needed someone most
I have pushed and pulled
Don’t think I do not know, Alone
This variety of Alone
Has a different torment
For I will never find a partner for this Alone
There is not that hope
Not that imagined dream
The hand has been dealt
And it has a bitterness
It has a solitude indescribable
To teach spirituality, Alone
Drive across snow covered hiway, Alone
To sit, and bear the burden of all I am to teach them, Alone
A conscience weighed with never being good enough, Alone
To return and speak to God, Alone
Wonder if he hears me, Alone
Do not speak to me of, Alone
That, is a lifetime for me
Is there a way that might I ache yet more?
For, missing thee is more than can I stand;
Yet also, do I ache by my own hand
For fearing action, boyish on that score,
That would us bring together all the more.
How pure would be our life were I a man?
If rather built, a castle than of sand,
I could, a dream produce in granite, or
At least, could give some substance to our life,
Which long we spun with threads of gossamer.
Remote, has been our touch–not man, nor wife,
Could we, ourselves, have truly called, for fear
Of facing a reality too sad,
Dispersing but what little web we had.