Terry's blog: "My poetry"

Amid the Million Mannequins

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Amid the million mannequins

(their fixed stares empty

like eye-holes of skulls)

you stand

trying to make them see,

touching plastic arms

to make them feel,

kissing dumb mouths

and screaming

(your eyes damp with pain)

at their deafness.

You held them.

They did not grow warm,

There was no longing

in their bloodless touch

nor comfort

in their pale arms.

I too was still--

lost in the stiff maze

of their tangled limbs

and the eternal chill

of their arid eyes...

until I stumbled

into the oasis

of your gaze,

the well of your mouth,

the healing breeze

of your touch...

and moved--perhaps just one step--

among these smiling dead...

and you saw.

When I wonder now

what brought (at last)

us here

(into this throbbing sanctuary

of pain and joy)

I remember

those vacant eyes

and all around us

lips that would not yield,

and ears that did not hear,

and mouths that could not speak,

and flesh that could not feel...

and I know why we, my love, must love

and how it came to be...

because only we are real

and because, you see,

we see.