Part I – The Absence
In the silent strike of her haunting hours
she slowly stirs, wakes, and sways
from a drunken fog
to awoken dreaming
He beckons across a midnight lake
and says,
“Come beloved, wash the confusion
from your heart…”
I wrestle in the skin of intimate thoughts
as if to fulfill something so carnal and desirous,
’tis just the journey toward a long sohbet.
I do not like this absence,
if even a brief breath
in the suffocating density.
But what do I deserve in partings stead?
Of what presence am I worthy?
I’ve turned to some unseen and unheard relief
in the direction of the Divine and
the Divine turns me right back to me.
Part II – The Talk
Ah, to talk
and forget our feet
and the path we walk
and the sound of earth
crunching below the soles of our shoes.
To strip the mind of formulations
and gears and clinks
of cogs and to just eschew
all but this deep listening
in floating sounds that resemble words
and sentences that, like music, slip
through the lingering pauses of quiet lips.
To recite with wild gestures and
where birds listen, then
in chorus join.
To release, to understand
and so doing,
realize our existence.
Part III – The Walk
To amble and never stop
for long enough
to know where we are
or not
and thus,
to get lost and leave little time
to return home before darkness.
And that feeling we find
of “My God what have we done,”
and to feel fear for wandering too far
only to realize then
the comfort of having this friend
by our side; one whose hand
never lets go,
who pulls when we hesitate and
grips tighter when in doubt.
This on a fall day with you.
We walk and talk, I am
with you, even when without.
