Delicate suspension bridges
Are hung with diamonds,
Quivering with the breath
Of the early morning breeze.
The carnage of survival is
Hidden within,
A night-time secret.
Darkness holds time,
returning hearts
To long ago ruptures.
Shreds of a dream fall
To the far horizon,
Pink light chasing
The lingering threads.
Birds are beginning
To gather,
Lining the wires as
Dusk pulls us into night.
They journey with no map,
Seeking their needs as they go,
Resilient when they go unmet.
First time migrators warily
Take their turn as leaders,
Leading flocks that share
A language of air.
Some of us will follow,
Moving southward with
The retreating daylight,
Falling leaves on our heels.
I think I will stay,
Gathering insights from
The low angled light,
Readying myself for
Next year’s bounty.
Pictures of a string bean,
Race horse legs
Awkward in youth,
Transformed by movement
Into the power of
Young adulthood.
The mirror does not
Match the mind,
Advancing time
Marching with gravity
Into the earth,
The ease and freedom
Captured,
A bird caged.
Desire outpaces reality,
Much like the stories
You tell from your
Armchair.
Had we realized the
Rate of acceleration,
We would have
Raced the wind
More often.
Remember when we first met,
Before I knew the story on
Your face
And the way you talk with your hands?
The world seemed simpler,
A smooth and gilded
Ribbon stretched in front of us.
Now our lives are twined,
Woven together by laughter
And heartbreak,
Events which have
Spoken out loud things
Most only whisper in the dark,
Hoping someone will hear.
There is no journey
Forward without you.
The self I have bared
Begs the shelter of
Your knowing,
And promises shelter
In return.
Some things persist,
Regardless of the passage
Of time.
The clutching of my
Heart,
The reversion to
Introverted silence,
The perpetual outsider
Winding ever inward.
One would have
Thought the test
Would be over,
The blessing bestowed,
The space to belong
Granted.
Perhaps my own
Internal barometer
Is faulty,
Counting and measuring
Something that doesn’t
Really exist.
Perhaps not.
You were chased
To the tunnel of
Traffic.
Though it was sparse,
The edges it defined
Are those of a knife,
Sharpened on both sides.
As we crest the hill,
I see you,
Immobilized by fear,
Paralyzed by instinct.
Your flight to the woods
Is a second chance.
Others follow your lead,
Ensuring you are not alone
For at least one more
Circling of the sun.
My clutched breath
Escapes,
Much like you,
Into the depth
Of the woods.
I wonder how far
We can stretch,
When reaching becomes
Breaking,
When life backs
Us into a corner
And we resort to
Staying there.
Where does
Resilience find
A source,
Who becomes its
Resting place,
The vessel of
Refusing to bow out,
Moving without
Merely lingering?
For me,
It is you.
The essence of
Threading through
The thickest of
Brambles to emerge
Ever in the sunshine,
Wiser and deeper.
I will hold on
To you in the night,
Knowing that our
Daylight gleams
Across the horizon.
In my head,
I say the perfect words,
Arrows that pierce
The sky and your heart,
Changing how the
World works.
Real space is different,
Words buried under
Layers of worry
And convention
And the introverted
Pattern relied
Upon for a lifetime.
Wondering about courage
Frays the edges of
What feels within control.
If I am too safe to
Risk these threads,
You will never know me.
If you weave with me,
Courage has heft,
And arrows reach
Blue sky,
And hearts.
It is incessant,
A constant, alive
Whining that reaches
From earth to sky.
As early morning fog
Is lifted by coffee
And a slight north breeze,
They find my eyes,
My nose,
My mouth,
My ears.
There is no pace
Which out runs the plague-like
Hordes,
The claustrophobia of
Overwhelming life.
At the height of summer,
We share the bounty
With all,
Friend and fiend alike.