chorus

does your heart

ever

call my name?

ever

in the way mine has sung yours

incessantly

in showers of sadness,

clouds of confusion,

and winds of wander?

it is

only in quiet

can I escape.

drift as dry leaves

down an autumn lane.

alone.

one with with crumble and the crispness

there in the bluster and the breathless

forever in the wait and the wayfare.

in that still of body and mind,

I find my center again.

my soul’s song remembered

singing my own lyrics,

but your name

is always in the chorus.

never find another you

stardust whirling 

stirs on the whisp of a cloudy sky 

and you are here.

we all come in the same way.

made of the same sweet syrup.

but the mix,

the blend of essence,

is unique to only you.

I will never find another you 

again. 

which is why giving you back 

to the clouds and the moon 

is impossible. 

until I remember 

in the next stir of the celestial stew 

I will find you 

again.

maybe only to look in your eyes 

one more time.

maybe we’ll have a lifetime of photographs 

together.

either way,

I’ll wait.

gusts of wings

if I knew this future,

cast into crystal ball,

headdress in place as I gaze in

seeing this life I live now –

I would choose

to press my bare feet

in the footprints

I set in wet sand

so many months ago.

knowing I would arrive

at the same water’s edge

looking out into

vastness,

unknown waters,

of potential.

 

where will I drift?

what shore will call me?

where does my compass point?

what does my heart’s scope spy

off in the distance?

 

I only know

I am not captain, my captain.

instead first mate

tasked with raising and lowering my sails.

it is the wind that will blow

and take me with it.

when the butterflies gather

gusts stir with every

flap of their wings

and I sail.

courage coursing 

in vulnerability I find no comfort 

in attention I find no glory

rather 

run into shadowed shade cover 

unseen 

in whisper of the unnoticed 

non-exist 

keeping strength 

in my own blood vessels 

aiding 

in my own ailments 

hefting 

in my own hand 

I stand to two feet 

and 

if by chance I reach 

I stand in spotlight 

yet 

met with slap 

back of wrist reddened 

burned

back of neck blistered

I shrink back 

hidden 

away from Hurt’s possibilities 

away from Rejection’s recourse 

I retreat to my own courage 

coursing through these deep veins 

leading to my tender heart 

in touch to others remembering 

every story has wounds 

and worries 

and wonders 

and wishes 

of the lost 

like mine

memories

my memory of you 

laying in palms smooth 

buttermilk cupping for gentle gaze

at Time’s past. 

cycled through the ages, 

moments of remembering 

only fill the outreached hand. 

I can not lose any more.

I fear as I move further from you –

what will stay

will sit 

propped on the head of a stick pin.

ready to jump

and I will have nothing to grasp 

or to gather.

your ghost will mix 

like smoke in wind.

gone.