This is what you don’t allow me to say.
These words I utter are a plea for help
and you tell me you want to be the hand
that pulls me from the burning building
and every time I try to be rescued
you turn your back and walk away
so I will rescue myself this time again
and I will wonder if I should stop trying
and allow myself to perish in the flames
now all I have to do is sit and wait
for another disaster to consume me
and sitting in silence is exactly what I’ll do
Why do you tell me one thing and do another?
Why do you run away when I need you most?
I’m stepping over the wooden beams now,
and the flames are all around me. Here, look
at the blood dripping from my arms. Here,
smell my flesh burning. This is what you do.
I do not walk away unscathed. I never do.
But now that I wait for my next burning building
I know I will never allow myself to enter it.
Why can’t it be easier to perish? I try and try,
and every time at the last minute, my figure
steps over the the charred remains and saves me.
If only there were no more burning buildings.
If only I didn’t have to save myself all the time.
If only I could feel free, just this once.
If only I could feel safe with you, just this once.
If only your words weren’t empty promises.
If only your words were not the burning building.
Copyright Janet Kuypers.
All rights reserved. No material
may be reprinted without express permission.