Train Tracks

I'm walking the tracks,
not on one side or another,
bereft of a friend
for fear's hold on him.
I mispoke, mistepped,
brought to light a hurt
not yet ready to heal
as it is still
tearing him apart,
eating him alive.
I'm sorry, my friend,
for what I said,
the question I asked
was not out of self,
to play the odds.
I am one of possibilities,
as any who know me
can tell you.
So, I walk the tracks
through the countryside
walking in the rain
watching lighting dance
wishing you'd let me say
I'm sorry.