Long Distance

Those long distances;
whether years or miles;
tears or smiles,
that separate what we feel
from what we think;
that urge us to drown the real
in drink
or find some new nepenthe
in the amnesia of pills; the dark and lengthy
painkilling process that kills the infection;
the affection,
by draining the abscess
or the excess
of our hearts
or parts
of our minds that refuse to let go
is in and of itself; painfully slow.
The only solace to our sorrow is
in remembering
what has not been...and hoping…
looking forward to tomorrow.
The distance can be crossed
and all is not lost
unless we choose to lose it
and would we choose it
thus
if our pain; our joy, our lust
were just as much a part of us
as our clear logic instead of magic?
How tragic!
We can’t hold on to youth
or truth
or beauty
because of responsibility to duty
but shall we be just as cynical;
cold and clinical,
in our amputations
of relations
that once meant something to us?
So it costs
a few more cents
to call;
we should have the good sense
to make the effort after all.
And in those suffering
pauses of silent instances
we can learn to shorten by practice
those long distances.
Perhaps we can’t hold
on to youth
or find any universal truth;
beauty fades
like plans we’ve made;
the best laid schemes
of mice and men have failed
and flailed;
drowning while jumping
from a sinking ship;
struggling to swim to the distant
shores of heaven.
How will we cross the vast
and infamous chasm
from earth below to heaven above?
There is no bridge but one.
Poets and philosophers have agreed
in need
to call it love.