The Man I Never Chose

When it comes to the man I never chose
I know an old shard of fear
And feel again the rudder steer
Inexorably where I will not go.
Perhaps I knew it then
Before he thought to hold my heart
And when patience was his love for me
Or anyone else they condemned.

We waited together for the gun
I, with trembling mouth
Seeking some pity in the line
Of gleaming barrels, glinting sun.
Instead, I saw my life in spades
And wept for him, for me
For the girl who could not shine
For the boy who was at once
Gift and millstone, anchor and shade.

For to love me was to see the mission done
And such a task to stand upright
Waiting for the cruelly grinding missile
To char soft dreams with biting light.
The sharp report, the leaden whistle
One live bolt of spinning fury
Amid a sea of nineteen blanks
One shot for two as judge and jury.

Patience was his love for me.
To love me was to see the mission done.
To wait in line, together, for the gun
Until one of us should break and run.

And now the man I never chose
Wakes from sleep and finds
Another to lavish with his best.
One who would not be consigned
To meekly bow to a pious host
That will savage one to save the rest.
He fights for dreams he cherished most
And no longer drones of patience and guns.
He stands, he sings,
He drips joy like honey
Puts away the childish things
That bound him with sullen poetry
For here is a choice for which he is fierce.
Here is where the bullet touched
But could not pierce.