Some Rope It Is

Some rope it is And nothing hangs from it Except what's left of me Stranded by trust Taken for granted By each truth I told It is rotting now And will fall to dust You have the strands And pieces in your heart So what will you do then With all the debris You make of valued things But O if you bring The stolen strands Together for a heart And let it swing Like a child at evening Carefree with belief Holding my substance Firm when tilted skyward And finding my joy When coming down to rise Some rope it is Some men scale cliffs And some hang from it Above gorgeous ravines Of soliciting death I shall not employ either Not even for the tightening Of a sail in change of wind Nor raising water From the primitive well I am contented To be a work of art That no one understands And swing from a tree Whose balk I am. Some rope it is