The Garden

I refuse to let you reclaim for
Anything of me that doesn't look
like a fire and iron skeleton
Anything that tasted close to a
true and bold form of infatuation
tossed your way as another chance
My love, brave and free, and my
belief, unburied and unwavering,
Can't be used as witnesses of lost
battles, desertions or abandonments
But the well I meant, wanted and was
at all times when they were honored
In the end, I am my only witness
And I'm not the one hidden in riddles
In futile humour or shallow reasoning
I know all about the despondency
The contagion of the urgency
The fever for the blame
The endings that needs a core
And you can say my spirit was hectic
But I've never been afraid of peace
I've bet my voice many times for it
Even knowing I would be only partially
human, but could be uniformly hopeful
But you are only your faltering you
I am the peace of work that I have
And I won't let you knock it down to
grab the pieces to sustain your
millions years old unbalanced soul