When My Soul Aches No More

 

When My Soul Aches No More

(“The mouth of the righteous is a fountain of life, but the mouth of the wicked conceals violence.” Proverbs 10:11)

My plan was to sit beside you underneath the
umbrella to take in the salty fog and firewood air.
Trouble is, my chest is full of arrows and
my heart is caked with mud.
These days frighten me; our manufactured heroes
turn too easily on their own.
I meant to look up your number, call you on the phone,
but I thought better of it. The voices in my head keep
explaining
the pain of every conversation I hoped would loop us
back to easy friends. Instead

I walk in the rain and talk to strangers,
cover my wounds,
bleed beneath the skin that covers
a soul that aches more than my bones.
I wait
for an apology at least as loud
as the disrespect. I believe I will be waiting
for a while.

Your certainty met my mystery head on.
I’m sorry I cannot cut and dry
my mind so precisely.

Another day fades while your face sits
well within the gaze
of my preoccupied last act on this
theater-in-the-round.

Here is what I want to remind you,
I have always loved you and imperfectly,
like bitter pecans or a faded rose, like wet ashes
in the fireplace or an unruly dog. And
I would
enjoy another burger or cabernet
before the final day when my soul
aches no more.