The wound that never healed

There’s precious little life left in my hands,
So I’m not in the mood to sleep away my days;
No point in wasting hours on a bed that stands
Between me and the dawn’s first golden blaze.

I’d rather rise with sunrise at the break of day,
And walk the dew like silver on the ground;
I’ll wash my face in spring and let it take
The dust of winter off, without a sound.

I’ll tip my hat to the sun, give fields a hug,
Then tap my sweetheart’s window, soft and light:
“Hey, darling, here I am — come on, let’s run,
Let’s steal away together into night.”

We’ll wander side by side through meadows green,
And I’ll lay down our love like a song in her lap;
I’ll drop it at her feet, still wet with dew,
Like a heart that’s finally found its map.

I’ll drop to one knee, pull her close and tight,
Hold that slender waist like it’s my last safe shore;
And the wound that never healed will face the wind again,
Wide open, raw — but I can’t hide it anymore.

Life can be a hard-ass teacher, that’s the truth,
It drills us on the how, the what, the why;
Sometimes we’re alone, and the whole damn world
Feels like a mess inside the sky.

Let the heart still cry, let the bitter taste remain,
I’ve got no other way to live this life I’ve got;
If this is how I’m built, then so be it —
I’ll walk this road, whether it’s smooth or not.