is to walk
your muddied fields, your lanes, leaning into the light.
mostly, my
tongue leans to the good side,
casting out
a mile long line of filament words, thin and flimsy.
did you
hesitate? i wish it was enough;
a simple
question reaching out its tips
to call
them back
home. we
soak them in, sustained.
you think
you know the preparations you make.
i’ve
missed you so much
lapping at
the edges
and I can't
stand here all day waiting
at the
thought of missing you.
still, i
see clearly what today will do for yesterday,
where the
purpose that has been written,
the divine,
shines through this final dwelling.
we sit in
stillness.
walk in
measured steps
searching,
desperate amongst the garden stones.
a boulder
of a day, they say.
a walk
through the thickest fog.
in the
beginning it was always there;
it chased
me down in my dreams:
whose face
had been freshly kissed enough
to measure?
to fill? and then?
spill over.
and then? repeat.
when all
the serious questions get answered,
we are
finally here in a room with no lies.
i need
to tell you something
whispers
when i have trouble remembering the dream you dream.
sometimes
the words return.
the sound
of your laugh
is enough.
i lean into you
sometimes.
i think i've forgiven you. sometimes
we buy back
time by sacrificing
one
another.
