I wish we could sit and drink coffee and just talk.
I wish the layer of persona that we slap on in the morning would slip off.
I wish we could set our minds and hearts on things that really matter.
I wish we could say what we mean, and understand each other.

I wish we could trust ourselves enough to trust each other.

but still, I love you.

Comments

Marcus said…
A lump just formed in my throat. Hits close to home.
Marcus said…
A lump just formed in my throat. Hits close to home.
Jen said…


This is what I've been saying to myself for a few months now.

I'm not appealing to "the other".
I'm appealing to myself.

Sometimes emotional intimacy is terrifying. (or is it exhausting?)

:-(
Thersites said…
Social distance is MUCH easier to maintain. :)
How happy thus once more
To hail returning spring I
Friends, welcome to our shore,
And cheerful be the day:
Join every voice with loud acclaim,
Our Guardian's praise to sing;
Echo round his grateful name,
Let hills and valleys ring.
For Tammany demands our song,
Then swell the votive strain,
His name shall float along
The breeze that sweeps the plain.

Whilst vanquished monster, grace
The saints of distant lands,
No fabled tales we trace;
For still recorded stands
How Tammany, in ages past,
Subdued our fathers' foes,
Till he, worn down with age at last,
A sainted hero rose:
Such was the chief who claims our song,—
Then swell, &c.

No wild ambitious strife
His equal mind could charm;
No sullen scorn of life,
Impell'd his vengeful arm,
Nor caprice or revenge could lead
His steadfast heart astray;
If justice doomed his foes to bleed,
Reluctant he'd obey:
Such was the prince who claims our song,—
Then swell, &c.


When first our wandering sires,
Transplanted freedom here,
Bright burn'd his council fires,
Their sinking hopes to cheer;
No ambush'd murder stain'd the wild,
Or midnight guile betrayed;
Whene'er the mighty chieftain smil'd,
Ordained his pow'rful aid:
Such was the prince who claims our song,—
Then swell, &c.

His native force of mind
Pierc'd the incumbent gloom,
And thus in stile refind,
Portray'd our future doom:
Our tawny race, though fierce and bold,
Your sons shall overwhelm
And long shall they in freedom hold
This rich, extensive realm:
Such was the Saint who claims our song,—
Then swell, &c.

As through a misty cloud,
(And here he drop'd a tear)
I see a hostile crowd
Their bloody banners rear;
Like you indeed the warriors seem,
But oft they're wrapt in fire:
How dreadful do their lightnings gleam,
And ah! your sons retire:
Such was the chief who claims our song,—
Then swell, &c.

With aspect fierce he gaz'd
Then wild with rapture cry'd,
Your foes recoil amaz'd,
To shelter on the tide;
And who is he serenely great
Who leads your columns on?
But here was clos'd the book of fate~
On h'd read Washington:
Such was the Saint who claims our song,—
Then swell, &e.

Still in returning May
His rights shall be our care,
And hallow'd be the day,
In each succeeding year:
Our sons shall sing his sainted name,
Till time shall be no more,
Now hov'ring on the wings of fame,
He marks and guards this shore.
Thus Tammany demands our song,
Then swell, &c.


- TANTROBOBUS. LILLIPUT WIGWAM, May 1st. 1783.
Jen said…
Kawanio Che Keeteru, to you, FJ! (Sorry I'm late.)
Z said…
This comment has been removed by the author.
Z said…
"I'm not appealing to "the other".
I'm appealing to myself."

Thanks for that, Jen.
And I like that band a LOT, their harmonies, particularly.
xxx
Jen said…
Z, I thought of you when I first heard them.
They have been compared to The Band, and I know you're a fan.

I really like these guys...and I'd love to see them live. They have great lyrics and their music is just relaxing.

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