Nonsense

Sit and listen, I will tell,
a tale to entice my little bell
a story of a girl
who loved a man
she could not love
a man with a son
that she would call her own
if only he let her

but this man, you see,
my little bell
was kind and dear to one and all
so that a girl hoping for affection
could never know
if she was special
and so this girl was in a quandary
whether to sit and stay silent
or to jump up and tell

but the story is much more complex, you know
bed time stories leave so much out, just to show
that really, all love stories are the same
that no matter the parameters,
there are a limited number of conflicts
and even fewer outcomes
but every time, there is at least one option
that makes everyone happy
and we call this happily ever after

and little bells all over the world, just like you
sit and listen and hope
that the story will end happily
but what do you not know, little bell
is that there are few winds that blow all men good
and the more people involved,
the more likely that not everyone can be satisfied

and the heroine knows this
she knows that if the world were forgotten,
then this equation would be simple
but it just isn't so
not everyone has a stake or an opinion
but enough do, to make things
complicated.

It doesn't help for that all the words we use
to describe and categorize people
we do not have a language
that can truly capture individuals
even our names are repeated, and carry no meaning
between their bearers

all you need to know, little bell
is that in this story,
the world is a very strange place
the people do not live in tribes
but each as individuals in vast cities
and so, rather than growing up together,
growing around each other, with each other
and personalities forming through reciprocal influence,
these people grow through chaos,
impacted by influences that they cannot understand,
because they are not intimate with most of the people
that they interact with every day.

and so when lovers come together in this world,
they are usually people who met
long after they became people
and they must find a way to fit these personhoods together
or hope that, by the grace of God
they were drawn through the chaos
and formed into perfect fits, one for the other

and sometimes, if you are lucky,
you can spot the signs
that through a chaos you have not seen and cannot ever know
a person has been formed
so perfectly fitted to the person created
when you were drawn through your chaos
and all that's left
is for them to know it too

and that is the heroine of our story, my bell
a woman who has come through her fire
beaten, burned, honed, and hardened
emblazoned with amusement and passion
who has spotted a man
and though she knows nothing of his path
she sees what has emerged from the crucible
and what she finds pleases her
but as it is for all humans, bell,
he cannot read her mind,
and she cannot read his.
And so it is that the dance begins,
not of courtship, as it would be within a tribe,
had intimacy been formed with time,
this dance is delicate,
to create an intimacy without pushing,
to lay the basis for courtship,
without alarming the turtledove
and sending it to flight
or worse, spooking the entire flock
that would turn and attack her
if they knew her intent

for this is not a world where all love is celebrated
the people pick and choose what love they will accept
all without knowing the lovers involved.
Two boys, two girls, one old and one young;
these are seen as improper,
with no attention to the fit of the personhoods.
And this increases the delicacy of the dance
for not only must our heroine attain intimacy,
she must do so
without becoming prey to the masses.

It requires a shade of surreptitiousness,
that in itself implicates guilt
but no man, nor woman, should feel guilt
simply for harboring thoughts of love
nor should they be punished
for attempting to realize their dreams,
so long as the other person involved in this dream
does not repel them
only then is it a flaw in character
to continue to try.

And so my bell,
this is not a happy story,
it hasn't ended the way you would hope,
at least not yet.
The panther stalks, the dancers dance,
and our heroine still hopes to discover
whether she has a chance
with a man who in some far away circumstance
has been formed into her complement half
and whether her dreams could ever advance
from images in the brain, from phantom sensations
into a touch on the arm, words of comfort,
a look of affection more special than before
in a face so very, very weathered
and bright eyes so very, very blue.