Paths That Separate Us

I came burdened with vicissitudes,

and my restless worries gnawed at you.

You cried out for attention,

but all you ever received

was distraction

and a measure of pity.

You envied my friendships,

and sorrow overwhelmed you.

And you wept, with reason,

round tears of heartbreak.

You showed me devotion

with so much love,

but your manners undid you.

And I needed neither

pride nor rigid molds,

but warmth, stability,

and tenderness.

And you gorged yourself on

bitterness and madness,

while I stubbornly kept searching

for kindness and sanity.

All roads

lead to Rome,

you whispered to me.

But your world

was foundering beneath your feet.

And your course

was so different from mine,

while I staggered on,

drunk on illusion,

my saddlebags overflowing

with ambition.

And my unerring scars,

like wayward partridges,

told stories

of comings and goings,

of falling and fearing,

of rising and carrying on,

of wandering and forgetting,

of sowing and reaping.

And you traveled on, capricious,

with no destination and no end,

without friends,

without breath,

lost in adversity.

And you cried without comfort,

with no one

to remember you,

with no one

to miss you or shelter you.

Like a homeless outcast,

like a dying man

on the other side of the world.

Emilia Montull