To Philia
Like Pygmalion I changed you,
from stone to flesh, a weeping angel.
And you taught me to smile.
I took you to earth instead of Parnassus
because you are no goddess.
Weep not; the world needs healing.
You saw me, waiting for healing,
my gaping wounds hidden from you.
How does one grieve for a goddess?
But you came, a stopgap angel,
wanting a taste of Parnassus.
We kissed; you made me smile.
You saw escape in my smile,
not realizing you, too, needed healing.
Your home could not be Parnassus
after the sun spoke to you,
and you became a deathly angel;
sometimes a nurse is better than a goddess.
You did what no goddess
could have done, and with a smile.
You were my protector-angel
a shadow with eyes of healing
as I changed in front of you-
a man, losing hope of Parnassus.
At the end we went beyond Parnassus
where no feet of god or goddess
walked, and I feared for you.
We watched him cheat death with a smile,
and the world seemed beyond healing.
You did not know you were an angel.
You spoke the word, a blazing angel
forgetting all your dreams of Parnassus
in your desperate plea for healing.
A woman always, never a goddess,
you saved the world with a smile;
believe me, I always watched you.
Philia, hand of healing, earthly angel
I knew you, but not on Parnassus.
I cry for a goddess; for you I smile.