To get back to Paul, more or less holy,

 

 

let me clarify that by no means I ever intended

to chase this, my dear fellow, away:

I didn’t mention possible molestations

acted out by him on minors.

How could I as he mentioned none?

 

I supposed.

 

 

And I did a little dance in my head:

Kept supposing.

 

Easy enough to dance along and away

and the strange thing was – he would not get up and go away.

 

Why? Easy again:

He wanted to confess and I was not up to it.

 

And yes this is a poem and you know why:

it carries a hidden message,

enveloped in bitter prose

and it tells you,

consider the line breaks

carefully if you will,

secrets you might have missed,

weren’t they transported to your brain

as song.

 

So, I sing so:

He left with his pain inside his chest,

he could not tell and I am thankful that he could not.

 

The eternal why is coming up

and this is not a poem anymore:

it is pure grief:

Why and how is it that

man can be so?

 

No answers to this

 

no poem to dedicate

by me.

 

At least not this time I am out of unspoken words.

 

I do not understand.

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