Richard Lawrence Harrington

Richard L Harrington



Is This You?


Together, we have eagerly wasted time,
burned our little flames brighter,
and outlasted the night.

Is this you,
who falls into my ribcage,
whose fingers grasp my heart?

Innocence, we have so fondly tasted here,
dies beside these woven feet,
and sleeps without a grave.

Is this you,
who makes a full bed empty,
whose warmth keeps it half-full?

Holding on, we take those strengths we are given,
bracing weathered foundations,
and a leaky tin-roof.

Is this you,
who walks onward to the end,
whose journey met my own?

Onward To Our Night


The still motion of life yields ever onward to our fertile lights;
each taken to burn unique,
each committed to the same wind’s dance.

We race with feigned certainty to ends of roads and sudden faults of love;
we, under blankets afire,
we, awaiting that ancient awe.

Those strong march away fearing the beauty of disappointment;
long lost to old memories,
long callused to our bitter truths.

All our loved ones pass with the city lights below our hearts;
in the thin streets of our minds,
in flames we beg quietly to forget.

How perfect and hopeful we've been in all our fleeting deeds;
to outlast our faithfulness,
to have walked onward to our night.

Dragging the Anchor


You're the passenger who left me
when I forsook the shore;
in love out at sea,
with dreams of nothing more.

I thought these sails would save you
from an old lonely storm,
but can you rescue
what's been so safe and warm?

Well I'm sorry I shipped out fast
leaving what I adored;
truths tied to the mast,
of my love still anchored.

Now we're over those shipwrecked tears,
and never have I told
how I kept for years
your lonely storms of old.

What Have We Been? (Lacuna)


By the hand of night
its ring a kind gesture
Let me alone
Let me remember
How you held all my fears
in your pain and your words
Small hints of the heavens
down here in your arms

The sins we own
The deeds we forget
The dreams that left us
quietly as we slept

Now pale as the moon
no blushing lullaby
Let me hold on
Let me my goodnight
We all drift apart slow
to the edge of the sky
Coldly pressing for more
but no more we are given

Now the hands of the light
come to take me away
from my cold metal world
the warm bed where you lay
but I'll fight for more time
just to know you're still here
just let me alone
just let me one more day

The sins we own
The deeds we forget
The dreams that left us
quietly as we slept

Morning comes bitter
as I wake here alone
Let me go back
Let me see you home
Safe in all we have been
and all we'd have become
Still innocent children
to the years ahead

Our Home (Lacuna)


A home forged from our years
and this bad liar's face,
in the care of your love;
for your hopes in this place.

I stepped on their ashes
disregarded their graves,
and I kissed you and fled;
now I see what remains.

A river of their soot
'round this runaway's home,
where I burned down the bridge
from the ending they chose.

They drowned in their beliefs
in the filth of their fires,
and they could have been saved;
if I'd stayed for a while.

Now every light is gone
from where you shared your heart;
mere ghosts of obsession,
now forever apart.

Oh please, please forgive me!
I left your world for dead;
and faithfully they marched,
to their believer's end.

I'm nothing more than me,
without another soul;
just this bad liar's face,
and empty chairs at home.

These are the Answers


When you freeze on the rooftop,
see a billion years gone by,
these answers hold no meaning,
but you hold them 'til you die.

You are only as alone
as a child still unborn;
so desperately longed for,
while your life is yet unworn.

You'll know pain in friends' faces
who have also hurt with you;
torn open hearts, thought unloved,
will mend — and break — anew.

Faith and your heathenism
are two practical choices,
yet already you have seen
how small deeds have great voices.

You will love — oh how you'll love
— and your reasons will vary;
like excuses for living,
or breaking up unfairly.

In time you'll choose so wisely,
like an actor's leading role;
sharing stories you borrowed
as you stumbled down a hole.

Remembering to ask why
will drift from your attention;
seemingly less important,
than the last of all questions.

You will love the ones you kill.
You will kill the ones you hate.
These are the answers we've found,
and forever find too late.

Becoming Alone (Lacuna)


It is like rain.

It is the sound.

It is the taste.

As clear tonight as ever.

This memory from long ago,
before your face washed away.

Oh to feel it run down my skin,
as hands and hearts so generously touched.

It is like rain.

It is searching.

It is my loss.

To have suffered and mourned.

Where are you now my nearest friend?
Where have you hidden in the darkness?

Please pull me from this storm,
and hold me, hold me safe on solid ground.

It is like rain.

It is the roof.

It is the leak.

You're hardly anything at all.

Yet on and on I wander,
always finding you less with time.

Don't leave me with myself,
Don't leave me here, with a man I've never known.

Believing (Lacuna)


Now this machine runs cold;
every part in its place,
every squeaky wheel — silenced.

Drilling into the heart of being,
to meet you at the end,
with the whole of my fears.

I've only just begun to know you,
but I believe I know you so well.

They forbade these dirty hands
from the dirt you wanted thrown
into the ground, now your home.

I never believed in faith
but I trusted yours had meaning:
that I was too scared to see.

I've only just begun to know you,
and I trust I always did.

I'll be out past the stars soon;
where touch loses its meaning
- I was bound get there somehow.

I'll embrace the destiny of life
knowing all things are born to die
and I'm afraid to be afraid

I've only just begun to know you,
and I know I never will.

Together Lost


and his only
beside the vague fire
drying old faults
and perfect mistakes

held in delight
broken with desire
resolved to sin
by midnight recourse

how time forgets
whether we retire
dying for more
or slighter absolve

with no farewells
bearing fine attire
pleading in wrath
or destined contempt

oh how holy
without each other
knowing what was
can never again

and her only
beside the vague fire
drying old faults
and perfect mistakes

Of Meeting and of Farewell


As we wait here in wonder,
wrapped around each other,
the ship's in the dock
— our luggage all aboard.
It wasn't easy to get here,
to the end of the world.
Still not ready to go,
but how could we really know?

So we hold on with our nails,
with the pains we find.
An old captain and the cartographer;
still a wind in these sails,
and still just as blind.

Our mail comes from the kneeling,
who can't shake the feeling,
of us on the dock
— with those who won't yet sail.
We merely whisper sweet farewells,
to the rest of the world.
With no more room to need,
we're all that we'll ever be.

So we hold on with our nails,
with the pains we find.
An old captain and the cartographer;
still a wind in these sails,
and still just as blind.

Why make so little of leaving,
of those plans still weaving,
as we drift from dock
— to our life out at sea.
So nearly I could not have been;
so scarcely as the world.
To keep it all so near,
what loss could I hold so dear?

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