You Never Even Looked

.

You never read what I tried to write

You only read what you thought was there

You saw what wanted to see,

Interposed meanness for meaning

Never held on, cherishing my best

Embracing my brightest, not once believing

Perhaps my joys, my agonies, my poetry, were meant

Left as a trail for your heart to follow, leading to mine

Where fir and bracken were darkest,

Where only sure hands, gentle direction, even comfort

Could lead me back home again.

Stiff-necked pride,

Puritanical self-righteousness,

Realization that no other points of view mattered

Least of all, mine,

Kept you from that,

And

Keeps me buried,

Stills my voice

Daring not sing through my tears.

                          It asks only to cry no more.