And I counted on you on a day
That I could not simply count coup.
I needed more than what one woman could bear,
More than life itself would spare.
And I counted on you when the
Time was past counting, while
The drag and press of tribal tradition
Were barking in the howling wind.
And I counted on you, knowing better.
Beyond all suspicion the proof, quite simple,
Was in your failing. A facet for which you bear
No fault in the way you were made.
And I counted on you to speak sense to reason
In that cold autumn’s evening. Afterward all
Was winter, and silence, and shiver.
Leaving me alone and so spared of treason.
And I counted on you unrequitedly,
For far too much, for far too long.
All along in denial of a cross, that only I could bear.
Our fortune and future sealed down by the river.
And I counted on you to wish me well.
In the days of my sickness, I found no succor,
Other than your persistence. Seemingly poisonous, loyalty
Was a thing I never knew I needed until I lost it.
And I counted on you to forgive me
For the ruin of a life filled with Joy.
No closure for the kind of wound left by a ghost bear,
For freedom’s sake, in a winter which left us lean.
And I counted on you not to quit me,
Though I do not blame you for what you did.
Your absence still reminds me what you refuse to.
Our Joy notwithstanding, I wept for you in vain. | JM