The Poet's Corner - Gary Hill's It's Strange Copyright 1996

Gary Hill's "It's Strange"
© 1996-2004 Gary Hill
It's strange, that's for sure, 
strange when I reach for you
in mind or body,
and you're not there.
  
Strange, like calling a number 
when you know she is home
but no one answers and as far as I know, 
she's not answering because I've called.

It's strange, to remember a time 
when you were always there.
Wondering what I might have done  
differently to help you stay.

It's strange, not knowing, yet caring; 
lonely, yet warmth welling up inside,
just seeking a way to let you know 
how much I care.

Just as sure, you don't know.  
Not really, where it counts
down deep inside your soul, 
where the peace of knowing 
is reward in itself.

It's strange, no matter what I do, 
you don't see it through eyes 
that will see and accept me
for who I am, for what I am,
and simply love me.
 
It's strange, strange 
that we live in a world 
that cries out for love,
wondering where the love is.
Yet, if there is love, 
why can't we just love each 
other while there is time?

Are we any different than
what we distain in others?
Do we take for granted that 
those who love us will be there
another second?

Can't we work together to heal 
the hurts?  Admit the failures, 
begin the path to restoration.
Or, is it building for the first 
time a relationship, free to love, 
to grow.

Spread out, venture, expand,
where we both wanted to go, 
but were afraid to traverse?

Yes, it's strange. 
Strange that we assume
the other will be there 
when the other is ready. 
Are we at the end?

Isn't it strange? If we love, 
do things that come from love, 
despite hurts and setbacks,
we have something that the world 
desires, but money can't buy.

It's strange, strange, that 
love sometimes is not enough. 
Yet, unless you have love,
you're like the man who gained 
great wealth, but was lonely 
because he had no one to share with. 

Without love, the world is cold, 
without purpose. Without love
we live in darkness.

It's strange, so strange,
the choice is ours.  
One we must make, or not.  
We will make a choice,
even if we choose not
to make one.

Yes, it's strange, a mystery.  
One I'm willing to explore.
A risk I'm willing to take.
Yes, it's strange, a mystery.  
I choose life and to love.

Is anyone listening? 
Does anyone care?
I pray that someone is you.

Yes, it's strange, 
no idea that I could
even care that much.  
But, I do. Can I make up 
for lost time? No, no one can.

But, I can choose to do 
the best I can with the time I have.
To live differently, love without response. 
To work, save, restore, and face the obstacles.

Do what I can despite loneliness and 
obstacles, choosing to show those 
I love that I do, in a way they can understand.

It's strange, strange to know 
the strength in me. 

It's strange.
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