all that is in my hands now, is if it ends with me

I fought once, a battle in vain

they came in the night, set flame –

to the hills

the hills I called home

and when only he and I remained

a white flag overhead, scorched earth between

he denied the soot on his sleeve.

His voice rang out over canyons and fields

that the wounds from his sword were already healed

in fact, wounds they were not

they were but butterflies as gifts to me

I remembered the day he had sworn to protect me

a familiar shield once meant to defend

now crushes my body, demanding it bend.

Even so we must go on, if we can

we must try to let go, or let it rot us too

rot that has made its way through forests of the same tree

all that is in my hands now, is if it ends with me

he will never see

the decade of pain I have endured

trust I dared not cling to

lifelines that in the night, almost severed

He does not want to see

for it means staring into eyes haggard and empty

and beyond, the home left in ruin –

walls that once fortified to not let anyone in

or anyone out

save for himself

burned to the ground

none left was any hope of repair

I then, unmoored, wander

searching for something that was never there

there were two, that stood at his door

one winter, just one more –

try, one more time

the girl that he raised

the woman she became

but he the judge, and I on the stand

for the crime was mine 

of building anew, becoming alive.