One morning,
after a night of restive distress and confusion,
you said,
with fear and resignation,
“There is a chaos in my head.”
And I saw it,
with dread,
the monster which was thereafter only to keep growing and growing,
till it overcame you
almost entirely.
And I could not help,
only tremble.
Could only yearn that you would fight it off,
defeat it,
as you always had mine.
What an unwise, unworthy investment I was.
How alone you were —
more alone than I am now,
for I had had your sustenance, lifelong,
and you had never had mine.
Or anyone’s.
2010-05-25