terra, you were tearing pictures out
and throwing them to the sea
but come
on, raise your voice to me
and carry yourself
because i cant do much for you, i'll tell you all you mean:
you're beautiful and we are only human
and i am the product of somebody else's grace
and i am an object, a caricature of my father's face
and i'll be honest--i've never felt at home
for fathers or forests torn down in my wake
and halcyon,
i've been drifting you along until i find someone new
i'm still afraid
that knowing is not safety
i mean what i say; I'll grow up and move away
a social debt,
time well spent
a sun to light my nights
a coma-death
demurred when
i slept through the night
i'm still afraid
that knowing is not safety
you're beautiful, but
youth is not a panacea for failure