I'm overcome with sadness

It's not the biting sadness
  The choked sobs
that are brought about
by the jolt of a sudden death
or the fresh sting of
a broken relationship

It's not the aching sadness
  The somber introspection
of missed opportunities,
of wasted days
of long lost loves

It's not the oppressive sadness
that depression brings,
wrapping around your head
in suffocating silence
that leaves you numb to the world
that makes you believe that happiness was
only a fairy tale

Rather...

It's the warm sadness
as the tinges of autumn begin to show
and you realize that the summer
was never meant to last forever

It's a familiar sadness as you realize
that everyone changes
and the person you once were
no longer exists, for better or worse

It's the sadness that nostalgia
tows along with fond memories
of summer vacations
of drunken antics
of foolish lust
of fading friendships

The sadness that tells you that
"Things will never be this way again"

But also reminds you that they were never supposed to be

   and that's perfectly alright

i loved you
that you were something
easyweak
between the flesh and eyes;

doing with precise smallness
your hands within my hands.

can we all hunker down
under the Magnolias
in the sand of the Plantation
driveway under
a confederate flag anymore?

draw our plans like Lee
would have, with a saber
a picture of lines
scribbled in the sand-
our carbine- loaded by our side
at the ready
our heritage the old war
or states rights
or slavery

when so much time and  lives
have passed
and people oughta know more
about peoples,
about history,
about struggling

which all races do.
It wasn't pretty then.
Not the least bit.
And cotton , high or otherwise,
needs no slavery,
and bigotry is
ancient as
sorghum and
horse meat.

And man is man, proven to depend on a
falsity or hate  to
defend his ancestry, his teachings,
instead of the question.

Here, with a stick
I scribble, while
down hunkering,
the least threatening position,
to ask of myself,
have I done what
I could. And the answer
of course,
the black man and the Mexican,
the Redman, the sensible ,
might answer, is
it will take time.
Do we have enough?

I move from the shadows
    To your intrinsic body:

My touch
     Dissolving
         Like the horizon,
The radiant pulses throughout
     Like scattered embers
Under celestial forests,
     Light and dark dance
Like a hymn of the solstice;
    Touch,
Naked light,
     Bodies of elliptical passion;
The light in your eyes
Makes the love we make real.