Oh, sad Poet,
cartographer
of the heart,
mapping the geography
where sadness
is the topography
of your soul.

Oh, Cousteau
of the changing tides,
like an oceanographer,
an admiral  spying
the enemy on the horizon.
Your sorrow comes and goes.

Oh, builder of sad dreams
in your house of many rooms,
but one door. Like a grave,
a casket shellacked with
black paint, a mural
of a shadow on the wall.
Architectural sorrow.

Oh, you sad Poet,
open your eyes,
paint us a poem of a rose.

A 100 miles,
A 1000 miles,

Nothing matters to me,
Unless we're talking about you,

A city away,
A country away,

Distances may increase,
But my heart and love for you may never cease,

An ocean apart,
A continent apart,

My feelings of loneliness and deprivation long gone,
They may always fulfill with the memory of you,

A planet away,
Within the stars,

The light or ray of hope I see,
I see myself believe its your heart that calls me,

Beyond the Galaxy,
Betwixt the universe,

A lot may change in my life,
But one thing I an honestly say is, we may never depart.

I've built this wall around myself
To shield my heart from the pain
Like the caterpillar, I hide
Until I'm finally free to find
A love to fly with me in the rain

If you think of me in the spring,
think of dogwood petals
in my hair, greener grass
and new beginnings.

If the summer solstice
finds you walking alone
in the garden of the moon,
remember that I'm somewhere
walking alone, too.

If you sing of me,
sing in the fall
in blue flannel and jeans
like the saddest song of all.

And if I pretend to die,
and you pretend to weep,
I promise to do it in the winter
when there are no flowers
to send in your pretended grief.

Dancing Sun wise circles
around the top of the hill
she called on the intervention
a litany of saints she knew well
spoken since her childhood
out loud she implored their help
this small pilgrimage of faith
shone bright a candles light
in the darkness of unbelief
She danced for her God.