poem: driftwood / rockhaven

driftwood / rockhaven

I.

The telling was like this:

Each breath came lightly. None was too much.
An equanimity, lessons came but quickly.

I was one then, at peace. But new surprises rained in:

Leaves clumped, damp. Clodden earth. Mossed bark.
Burdens swallowed whole.

Enter, exit, the night impels a latent discovery.
Cornhusks of time, wounds alighting.

Can there be nothing but joy, hands molding clay,
fingers’ light touch fluid, forgiving. Partition worlds
as they appear, one by one, glistening with dew.

Your small voice slipped through. Was it a touch
of grace, tender petal against cheek, so slight?

Were you there with me just now, or simply a spark
of my mind, the same and one, all alike?

We are but present now, dropped from the world’s spin.
We are but one in our momentary glimpses.

Please come when you can. Your dinner’s getting cold.
And please, when you arrive: let the cat out.

II.

There is one who awaits you. We avail to you with pleasure:

Your own ghost of the loving distant waters, stuck on with
more sludge than you can bear to imagine. She betides you.

And with none other but these words:

I love you in ways you didn’t imagine. I come to you,
my sack of russet, you wouldn’t know me from Adam.

But it is time.

Time for you to recognize that I was here, waiting,
always. There was no door ajar for me. Until now.

And wouldn’t you know, the very eclipse beckons. It took
us all by surprise, the dunes reflected accordingly. We saw
the tips of the waves. Their dazzle spoke measures.

And if you could just shut the fuck up, we’d all be the better
for it. We waited so long for you to finally straggle in.

We will comb your hair now. We will wash your feet.

And sit up high, because it is time for you to rise again,
but rightly.

It’s been in the making.

4 / 07