Friday, November 22, 2013

Winter Journey

I came in through the snow, my footsteps quickly fading.
I saw, on my way, that old tree leaning, dusted,
paling, and our initials carved were covered only
barely.
I brushed aside the white so you'd remember.
I listened for the solo note of frost finch floating
                            so I could follow.
                                 I found the door with message
                                              thawing in the dawn
but made it out.  I waited among the elms
         and all of nival ilk.  I waited long
         and worried you were lost.
I should not have left.  I circled the vast
                      and colorless expanse, returned
                      and knocked to no response.  I, then,
with one finger, traced words into the sleek freeze
        on window and left again,
                                      the cold gnathic aching blowing
                                                        as if predicting death.
I could feel your absence.  I let my heart beat widowed,
just to know it.  I turned against
       the wind,
                its blast all that broke the terrifying muteness
                                             of the land.
I needed joy.
I needed you.
I stopped and stood alone
in this somber
        silence
and watched the eerie
powder snow gently take out canvas.
I worried you'd forgotten where we were to meet,
   where I met you last, four seasons past.
I planned calendar year around
                                            return.
I memorized your face, this place, but not your meaning.
I held the heat and lied.  I met you in mess of romance.
I observed your wounds with my hands.  I placed yours
                           where mine were matching.
I came back in winter,
came in pitch black night in bleak of chill,
needing fire.
I will kiss you alive when I find you.
I have arrived.

       

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