Your Mary

My eyes on you while you're sleeping,
your face peaceful, even though
I know there's a war raging
inside you.

I wish I could reach into your soul
and demand a ceasefire,
but you'll never
let me in.

You closed the gates to your soul long ago,
sealing it forever like the Secret Garden,
but I'll never be lucky enough
to find the key.

Maybe, it's because I'm not your Mary
and someone else is waiting for you
holding the key and searching
for the right gate to open,
so she can create beauty
out of destruction.

Maybe, I should release you to her,
but the calmness in your face
while you quietly sleep
is a glance at what
your life could be,
a glimmer of hope.

Maybe, I could be
your Mary?