copper

True story: Years ago the poet was speaking with his friend and editor Jan Innes when she offered an opinion that he was the perfect "transitional man". The guy who is there to catch a woman when she is falling from a relationship or hard knock, dust her off, help her regain her zest for life and confidence, then be left behind when she gets back on her feet. If you look at his history, there is some truth to the theory.

Well, he dropped me a line this morning and asked me to post "copper". That means only one thing...

Originally written during his breakup with the Mad Gypsy, the poem shows a certain grave and gentle acceptance of that role. It kills him, every time, but he lives and dies by the notion that if you truly love someone, you want them to be happy, safe and well. And if that means they choose another, so be it.

copper

I am the path, but not the Shrine.
The way, but not the end.
Friend, but not lover, another fills that role,
and in my soul I know
I am the light, but not the page.

Perhaps, in times, the river,
and sometimes the falls,
but when the lakeside calls
the water is no longer of me.
For that is not the role I fill.

Not understudy, but transitional player,
given to the range and skills granted
in this enchanted, if graceless age.
The one you may even call on
when he wears your dagger, deep.

And you may not understand, or care,
the essence of my part in this,
the dance of love and life.
But that is why you cannot stay,
and I must, in the second act, away.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.