Boy of Burning Heart

You
with your shadowy lashes
and forehead furrows...

why do you hang your head as if
it holds a crown of leaden thorns?
Why do you brace the heavy weight
with your rigid hand?

If you knew how my soul
sent out little cool fingers
to whorl around you and cradle your heart,
would those hot tears still singe their paths?

Maybe now that you've felt mine
and seen your shirt wet with
the overflow from my eyes,
wet with the silent sorrow of my heart,

you will see how I stretch to you,
and how your pain is my pain,
how your transgression is my distress,
how my shadow hides from your terrible light.

Please never hide from me,
boy of burning heart.
I would rather cry my cooling tears
than watch you die out.