Raise You Up

Your spirit, full of fractures,

returns to his darkened grasp

of its own volition.

Battered eyes swivel to mine

confusedly calling for rescue.

Yet your lips form the ageless lie:

“It’s ok, because he loves me.”

 

And I am rendered powerless by his “love.”

His grip’s a leash, while round the corner

I hold your hand.  And call you friend.  But I lie.

 

If I could break his toxic spell,

I’d dry a year’s worth of dampness from your cheeks.

Show you pictures of homecoming parade

your sophomore year, all dimpled laughter with friends.

Declare that your lyrical voice could lull me for hours

of your future dreams and funny stories.

 

I’d request you to sketch my great grandmother,

who’s outlived her brutish husband by twenty years.

She’d be honored by your artistry

and charmed by your humble grace, as I am.

I would raise you up, an aura of independence...

 

Because I love you.

 

By Devon Liebnitz

10/24/17