There are those who’ll look you in the face –and make you lose your place –
as if you’ve kept them from a state of grace –
as if you’ve done the one thing
that can’t be forgiven – perpetrated
the catastrophe that’s left their lives so riven,
their least hope is now unthinkable. Despair,
because of you, is certainty – unsinkable
despondency has now, because of you,
because of you, become the only cast of mind
they can imagine could be true –
and will be true – for them – because of you –
because of you. There’s nothing you can do.
Who they are depends arterially
and entirely on cleaving to this point of view.
Of course, perhaps you were the culprit, too.