|
|
|
Our
souls commingled in our minds,
|
| I
remember the moment so well, |
| Your
life, |
| Became
my life, |
| Your
breath, |
| A
reason for going on another day… |
|
|
Now,
|
| Your
breath whispers |
| Through
the leaves of the trees, |
| Bare
and desolate, |
| In
the cold morning of a confused spring. |
|
|
Your
face evanesces in the windowpanes of my little
|
| apartment, |
| As
I squint out into the darkness |
| Looking
for you to return, |
| But
you never do; |
| You
voice calls to me from the other end of the earth, |
| I
strain to discern the words, |
| But
cannot comprehend what I am hearing; |
| Emptiness
fills my being; |
| Life
is repugnant. |
|
|
It’s
been 30 years now since you left me standing on our balcony,
|
| Left
me, |
| For
the cold, unforgiving steel of that Rambler’s bumper, |
| That
frigid, moonlit night in January, |
| And
I am still standing there, waiting, |
| Though
time and space, |
| Have
long since transcended that moment. |
|
| [published in
“Palingenesis,” a First State Writers Anthology 2002] |
|
|
