William J. Jr. Atfield | + Follow Poet |
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To Forget Never Intended

January 25th 2009



   I hope that you know Moneca, in a New York heartbeat, I would forget every negative word, ever negative act, ever negative reaction, every rejective  gesture, ever pain filled moment that has built the foundations upon which you and I – for far to much of us – have existed and are the bases for all my speculations, all my assumptions, for all the hypotheses I have stated in poems, in prose and in much of my conversations. Know Moneca, that none of it carries any weight, except in the ink that has been laid upon all those pages of cathartic expression, that have come before you. I also want you to know my Dear, that I would not hesitate to, I would love to walk across the threads of, the fabric of time, walk among the lights of history, swim upon the waves and energies of love’s oceans – all these, I would love to do, with you, as my positive flows with your negative, my light dances with the shadows in your darkness, my warmth, blankets all the coldness in your world, to have your water quench all my thirsts, for you be the strength to all my nakedness, to be the love that takes the hand of my love and fly high above all that you have placed in the way of an us .
   I think you know Moneca, that one has to accept the fact that they have daemons before they can face them, in order to battle them, set them free, which in turn, sets themselves free and, as for me Moneca, all that I have written, all I write, all my words are but my cathartic annalists, my shaman healers, my exorcists. They all have helped me, made it possible to accept the reality you have written and continue to write. 
They help me make it though the day, make it through the night .

Never intended

I never intended to be the source of what made you feel bad.
I never, ever wanted to be the one who made you sad.
I only, ever, wanted to be all of, what you never had,
the man who loved you, Dear, 
the man you never had to fear.
I have looked all around, into the reflections of life.
Into the mirrors, I see – your words cut like a knife.
I followed along, as you created the rule
by which we would play, the relation game. 
I think ?, by doing so, I was a big fool, 
a fool by look, a fool by any other name. 
With you, I wanted so much, much more !, 
but cleaver, conniving, shrewd, you, closed the door.
Upon the wings, upon the strengths of my love,
it was not only conceivable, it was possible to rise above
this roller coaster ride, this merry-go-round
that, on many occasion, kept me low, kept me down.
I would have put my life on the line.
Anywhere, and at any time, 
looking  for that rhyme, 
that reason to see life so sublime.
Now, you are yours, and me, mine.
Together, never a mountain to climb !

B. J. “A” 2
January 26th 2009

Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2013

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