SANCTUARY

That girl, alone beneath some tree,
she wears a black shirt like I.
I do not know her,
or whether she wears that black shirt
as her ceremonial garb
to some dark god too.

In some dream, I sought
another in a black shirt.
Does she seek another as well?

Her black shirt hugs her skin,
wrapping her in its dark folds.
It follows her in every motion,
like my own black shirt.
But does she hide in it because
she is afraid of happiness too?

She rises and walks away,
But my black shirt does not
vanquish my own fear

And I know now that there
are no god-voices in my head.
Or girls in black shirts,
watching in my dreams.
This black shirt is not some
sanctuary from my fear

But I won�t stop wearing
these black shirts of mine.
They�re all I have.