|
|
|
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] |
|
|
