“O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?”
— William Butler Yeats, Among School Children
To Him:
Why do we dance this charade?
Words veiled in blinding plumage.
The peacock’s narcissistic strut.
Tapping innuendo, one feather coerced.
Then two.
A false confidence masquerade.
You foreshadow covenants.
I feign indifference.
We tease the unknown.
I curtsy.
Eyes seduce behind veil of steel.
You bow.
Hand extended in burning anticipation.
We touch. Fire to Ice.
I melt.
You mock.
We pause.
Footsteps echo far.
Illumination dims.
I waltz alone behind the curtain.
We that never was Us deteriorates in darkness.
Note: This letter was originally published August 16, 2020 on Medium. In 2020, I migrated that writing content to my personal webpage. The poem is a tweaked version of an original written a few years ago. The more contemplation I gave in writing a full letter to Him, the more I realized these words say all I need to say.
Beth Taggard 