Marriage for guilt, lust or love
young enough to misjudge commitment
old enough to cleave
to what could be

I was a performer
without talent or skill
acting as if I knew what love is;
and still I act

The recklessness of heart cleaved
what no man could put asunder
as if a seasoned careless butcher
knew the parting spot by divining
rusty dull knife in hand

Separating circumstance
from what the heart recognizes
as verity and passion
convert to struggled acceptance
rent with jagged torn edges

I was an amateur carpenter
of emotion
patching together the chunks of love known
while seeking the shadowy heart’s desire
using bent nails of intention

Aging changes perceptions
slowly or unpromisingly at times
owning shortcomings without confessions
lacking apologies or admission

I bent my witching wand
willow fork searching
for inner reconciliation
that arrives in spurts and shudders yet
lacks a course to nirvana