It was a wide arc of stone, suspended in sky
Where I insisted on holding a march, a parade
Where I insist on watching. Women and children parade
In the blindest white, an ironic image of death. As everyone
(Sans me, hiding beneath said arc) entered the double doors
Of a manic church, I managed to get a glimpse of you.
Carried away by the swirling crowd, I imagine it's worse
Than being drowned. I know how you don't like crowds,
Only me-- You reach out to me, calling-- I'm a solitary figure.
It was then in my gaze I saw her, the other half of
Me, upon the church. Standing above the march that insists
On taking you away (unintentionally). She's also looking at
You, the way I am now, the way I was. And so begins
Her descent into your arms, out of all the crowd, you
Caught her, a baby again. You caught me. And to my
Horror I watched you go, your own free will this time.
But did you look back to me, or was I imagining? Did I see
apology in your eyes? Have you become driven like everyone else
In that march? Or worse, nothing of the sort-- I dreamt
You had to enter those large doors. You had to,
And I've lost you. In our last shared glance, did
I mirror resignation? I think I've lost you.