Too Slow

I can't insist. I can't even let go
Of hope. I haven't got a broken heart,
Or even broken fingers; since the start,
When I was still connected with the show,
Awaiting love, expecting it to grow,
And watching it instead coming apart,
I knew I'd be relinquishing my art
Once everybody saw my dance. Too slow!

I tried to manage without clarity
Of purpose and of vision, but I can't.
I tried to substitute a vicious rant
For truth, and for one moment I could see
A quiet path leading to victory,
But those triumphs are feckless, cruel, and scant.

When I Was Silent

You think you made such a compelling case
That everyone would be persuaded. Why?
Your arguments are clever, even sly,
But not persuasive. Looking into space
And finding, when I look back, in my place
There's someone with a sad look in his eye
Who looks like me — no, I'm a happy guy,
Replete with genuine delight and grace.

So I am graceful, you are sly, we both
Have argued painfully, our efforts crowned
With small success. We both have run aground
On dark uncharted shores. You took an oath
That meant nothing at all, and I was loath
To interfere, and didn't make a sound.