Fingers
I would light a candle for you
But candles burn
And my fingers have no right
To bear that flame
I would lay a flower for you
With soft green stem
But my fingers have no right
To bear that blade
I would write an elegy for you
But elegies lie
And my fingers have no right
To take that pen
And I would say a prayer for you
But what is prayer?
Just fingers joined in vanity for absolution
And I would take myself for you
But who am I
To think the world could be restored
By my own hand?
So I have learned to breathe for you
And stare into the trees for you
And watch them slowly shed
Their charcoal skins
And I have made believe that you
Bequeathed to me some share of you
When you departed all the rooms
That we had been in
But a candle whispers anything
That your body needs to hear
And my fingers have no right
To bear that flame
© Brendan Bonsack
September 2013