My beloved cries out—
I bring cool cloths, rub her back, I pray
and wait, and split in two—
As one watches over, the other packs her bags
and drifts into the night
First the forest and the fog—
I am blind with darkness and use my hands
to feel my way through
the unaccounted for,
the unrecognizable, flashes
of memory dismissed
Tangled branches whip, roots rise up
tiny monsters nip,
but I don’t run
And always the presence—
thick film and sticky, bearing down
too heavy to be comfort,
and cold
There is more air here
but I see what’s next and drop
to all fours
Now I am on the rocky ocean’s edge at low tide
Here the wind rises and I know it can
spirit me away
while parts of my little body are cut away and discarded
it can spin me into ether
Here it feels free,
but not really, false promise—
I will have to return some time,
to face my broken heart
I’ve been here many times
and have what I need: layers, rain gear
soft soled shoes
(we’re on slippery ground here, pay attention)
a locket, some string
and one match
The match is my beacon, string
keeps me grounded
I know this road, and will
find my way home
Trying to befriend fear.
