There is anguish in knowing that I cannot reach you.
This kiss can break no barrier of bone,
I know no ease of language that might teach you
In that last place where we must stand alone.
Only in bitter struggle do we grow wise,
Knowing no quarter, and no compromise.

There is anguish in knowing that I cannot break you.
Beyond this wall of flesh you stand intact.
Ah! with what fingernails of hate I’ll rake you,
Till love has ground its teeth on sour fact.
Eyes, mouth and hands made blind, compassionate,
Beyond the sting of love, the burr of hate.

There is anguish in knowing we can never meet
In this small room where we are most alone,
And yet the grass against the root grows sweet,
And yet the flesh tastes sweeter at the bone.
Four walls of love and sunlight on the floor,
And the Judas kiss that closes the last door.