I have been captured by you, and still resounding,
my walls echo with your lifetime's pounding.
I have swelled in your joyous melodies,
fluttered with fancy and trembled
in the shadow of your anxieties.
I have been left alone in
the dark, tightness of depression,
and without help or light of progression,
left to fight for you, left to die for you.
I have been pursued and sought after.
I have heard your lilting laughter,
you have heard my whispering love
and I have known your hope's death,
still crushed beneath your breath,
beneath the breast
of you who defies one's own strength.
I have sometimes had enough and I have
had little to speak of, beamed with hope
or cowered in desolation,
listened to a whimper of fright
or cries of desperation, shouts of delight.
I listen well, and am moved deeply,
as the only one who knows truly
your momentous honesties and
share your secrets and your flaws,
know this body's unbreakable laws.
Your movements strange,
and so prone to change,
you seek answers where no secret hides,
searching with fervor, holding tight to pride.
But behold! Am I not the one
who holds your secrets through every storm?
Have I not kept safe your breath and brillance,
or kept you steady in that terrible silence?
Who am I! for you to be still
and break yourself to your own will.
Oh, let the hum of your heart,
let the center of each stop and start
speak softly some assurance to
your fragmented fragility,
a terrified, tattered you.