In the dark on the end of the line

In the dark on the end of the line
my woman is softly sobbing,
like a child lost alone in darkness,
wounded and comfortless.
I have cut her with my casual anger
and cannot withdraw the words,
and nothing I say can soothe her,
or stop her muffled crying.

In a world where my voice or face
travel at the speed of light
why is it that I cannot reach across
through darkness and distance
and stroke her lovely face,
or kiss from her dark eyes the tears
my woman is softly crying?

March 2005