[Written in the mid 80s to a coworker, I
composed this in the middle of the night after the bars had closed. Tamara
had told me that evening that she would be moving from Colorado Springs to
Florida, and had asked me if I would "write" her. I had hoped we could be
more than friends, but I guess I had not made my intentions clear to her.
I gave the poem to her the next evening at work.]
To you, if ever you should
go...
Your
absence now is everywhere.
The room is filled with
you're-not-here.
If I like
sand could sift the air,
My hands would fill with
not-yet-tears.
You're
gone not yet, but promise soon
My missing-you will reach the
moon.
Before
you leave you want to know
If I will write you, keep in
touch.
Suppose I
want you not to go;
To stay with me, that we might
find
If
friendship into more would grow?
For you
to stay, is that too much
To ask of one so dear to me?
And if it
is, I'm not the kind
To bind your heart
despairingly
With
bankrupt pleas. So I'll not dare--
When you depart--my loss to
share.
For then
my hopelessness would show
To you, if ever you should go.
~Mark A.
Rector
[She forgot to take this poem home with
her,leaving it on a work counter that night.]
Last
night
I visited the tenement
house
where we used to
live
twenty some years
ago.
I sat on the curb across the
street,
watching for your
face,
waiting for your
smile,
wondering what went
wrong:
"Why has the love of my life left
me,"
and "Why am I still
here?"
This
morning
I was watching a young
couple
sitting on the front stoop of the tenement
house
where we used to
live.
He was angry and
confused;
She was hurt and had been
crying.
I could see that he was mostly
afraid,
but he wouldn’t admit it to
himself.
Mostly she was
angry,
but she didn’t seem to know
this;
perhaps she just didn't care
anymore.
And
the end of the world was at their feet
as they stared into
the face of
Destruction:
That old Devil,
Silence.
Right then it seemed that
there was no hope.
When, suddenly
one small chance flashed between
them:
Fluttering timidly,
fleetingly,
like a butterfly.
And
they reached out
and caught that one last hope,
clinging to the
lifeline,
Afraid to let go
In
an instant
they captured all creation with each a careful
smile, that said,
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know why I hurt the one I
love.”
“Please forgive me, and never let me
go.”
“Never let me stare into this abyss
again.”
“I can’t live without
you.”
Right then
I said a silent
prayer.
“Wherever you are,
Elaine,
I want you to find
happiness.
Even if I’m not there to share it with
you,
My heart is
there.”
I
still care about you.
~Mark A.
Rector
