Song For George (Hard, Not Easy)

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"Who can I love?" he sang.
He sang it soft and long.
"Too many wives and lovers are already lost—
Dear God, who can count the hurt, the cost?"
It was his soft and steady song,
But it was hard, not easy.

Who can I love
When time is hard and I am harder
And nothing's ever kind—
Or do I simply mean, however wrong,
That now I find at long, long last that
Nothing's ever been so kind to me as you
Except the one who's dead?

I'm not so bad,
I always like to think.
So why can't I be kind,
Or kinder, or be perceived as such,
Convey myself as such,
Be someone soft to touch, but still a man
And one who's hard to know that much.

You're a woman fit to love, I see.
Dear Polly, who wouldn't want to love
A woman so deserving all
That to resist you would be another Fall,
Or legally Insane, or just a pain—
Still, not easy, these clumsy ballets of love!

Why can't I be true in kind to you
And love you well or myself at bay
Or all these raucous friends of mine
Or all these blinded wounded kin—
Every one so needful or hormone-driven!
Why can't I lead my newly-bearded son
To be less horrible than myself and love me
As even I deserve? Dear God, is it too late for love?

Oh be a little kind, or kinder, ageing heart—
Whatever comes, I cannot help but think
That something soft behind the mask
Might yet be brought to bear upon this task
But you know how men just never dare to ask,
And it's still hard, not easy…

rcs.

10th draft: 05/26/04
©2001 Ronald C. Southern

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