Essentially, this poem tells the tale of one individual trying to keep a friendship alive. However, as you all probably know by now, friendship takes two. Every relationship in life is like an intricate dance. If one partner stops dancing, then the other cannot continue. They can try and help their partner along, coaxing them to keep up, to take the simplest steps...but if one gives up, the other must move on. There is only so much time that someone can spend trying to help another person keep dancing. If they don't want to dance and they're firm about it, you have to move on...and that dance dies. Relating back to friendship, if one friend refuses to lend a hand, to contribute to the friendship...no matter how much you try to make it work, the friendship eventually dies.
Laid to Rest by Squeaks
I gave you so much, letting it all drip along the vines of time,
Every memory and thought caressed by those soft, worn branches,
Every thought and tear, captured by the long lost hollows of the wood.
I gave you so much, letting it flow through troubled waters,
Dipping another cloth into the cooled broth,
Laying it to rest upon your weary brow.
I gave you so much, pausing not to think twice but only to act once more,
Stooping down to kiss your sunken cheek and brush away scattered hair,
Waiting just another moment to see your chest rise and fall rhythmically.
But you took it away, and buried it beneath the sapling in the back yard,
Like a dog buries a bone, or a squirrel hides its winter hoard
Away from the bitter cold.
But you took it away, and sunk it beneath the tombs of time,
To a place where I cannot go, for I am but virgin soil, untrod upon by hell.
To a place where foxes and thieves return, in the dead of night.
But you took it away, and you slaughtered it in cold blood,
You squeezed every ounce of life out of its broken body
And you shoved it in a coffin without any ceremony, without a second glance.
And so I cried, and my tears fell and the earth drank them up,
And Jupiter spun more rings than Saturn, enshrouding itself in misery
And the grandfather clock on the basement wall tolled 12am.
And so I cried, and my shoulders shook in silent agony,
And the bear in its den rolled over, covered with a mist of sleep,
And the vixen peered from behind her bushy tail into the dense thicket of winter lace.
And so I cried, and my body became weary from weeping,
And I dropped my pen on the floor and it rolled away down the stairs,
And the fireplace crackled deviously behind me, casting shadows on my wall.
For there it died, the friendship cultivated with such love and hope,
Every spring, blooming such beautiful, glorious flowers,
Every winter, a graveyard haven for the hooded soul.
For there it died, what had been sown in love, now lost to tears,
Not a sound from the brush, not a snapping branch
Nothing restores life to what is dead, except God.
And so a part of me died too, laid down to rest under heavy snow,
Eyes closed, lips ever slightly parted as though seeking breath,
Pale skin against the white robed earth, laid to rest.
Laid to rest.
Signed with clouds,