The long march

When the rain rains, baby
It pours
And brings me to my knees in wanting

As I kneel, drenched in cold, pure water,
My eyes squeeze tight and my head falls back

You’re here with me, I know
But not enough

So I am off.

I’ll trudge through the field
Of mire and high grass

I’ll crawl through the opening
Left gaping in the fence

I’ll fight off the demons
I’ll play the role

Until your fingertips see mine
Face to face

I’ll fight on
And on

I am almost home now
No there, still,
But almost home
Not wanting.