I didn't feel like going.
I didn't want to do anything, or hear anything from anyone about what they thought.
Jurys are just random selections of people
Judges are appointed, like my guardian angel
The courtyard had been calling.
With solemn columns
Surrounding grass that was...
She looked at me and said...
"I'm not going to ask you what you want me to ask you..."
"who did this to you?"
I do see the pain in your eyes dear. But that is the smallest part of what I see.
While the jury sees a shell of you
and wants to know and wants to know
Your lifeless frame and hollowed eyes...
what's the cause?
Such an unimportant detail.
I see a stirring
A mixing up of time and space and all that you experience
re-arranging you into the girl I know even better than yesterday.
You are not just a body with your knees up to your chest, arms tightly holding them.
I see everything that expands behind and in front of that
And that it folds like a blanket around you now
Telling you you're alright.
You're safe to grow.
You've never been alone.
You'll never be alone.
You've never been bad.
You've always been wrong
But you're right...to feel all that you feel.
You're okay, and it's safe to sigh.
It's safe to say goodbye.
Your tender field of clovers has turned into quite a thoroughfare
You can abandon the field altogether if you want
It's been trampled.
That we know.
Or you could keep the open sign on.
The walkway itself is very stunning and scenic
Though paved aggressively and painfully,
And you've still got things to do.
And clovers still abound
to the right and to the left of you.
Forget the trodden leaves behind you,
Or the emptiness before you
Remember what's beside you
Always, always you.
So... "who did this to you?"
Be thankful, be proud and proceed.