And it was our movement
That made the color—
That gave the light some place to cling,
Some form to cast in fraction
As through the waves it dove,
And leave behind some ghostly trace
Of where our breath escaped
Before it broke those chilled blue depths
And all returned to slumber.

A million throes upon the sand
And voices that had whispered
To each and every merging wave
Before their time was spent—
Believing those eternal beats
Would keep their secrets safe,
In memory unpredictable
Of ceaseless reaching fates

But deep beneath those shadow shapes,
The drops that caught the light
And cast it into fleeting forms
That matched our moving flight,
There were not souls to hear our words
Nor lovers to remember
The history we entrusted there
And soon forgot ourselves

So none remembered what had passed
Or that there ever were
Lashes closed beneath the moon
That prayed for something more—
That cast out to the space of night
As though there were in waiting
Some purpose that was more than life,
Someone out there to meet,
Some hope yet left to gaze up to
Or seek within the hush.

It comes to me in this moment,
I don’t know why,
That one of the times I was happiest
Was walking slow at night

Hand fast on the handle of my bag,
Feet sore but sure on the path that led back
To the dorm I had left, not one week before,
To travel abroad though I had hardly crossed the door

Of that new place to live,
The room small and pale,
The winding back alleys
i would come to know so well.

The wheels of my case were noisy,
Rough on rough ground,
And I shied from catching the eyes
Of unknown neighbors around.

Yet, easing into my own presence there
As I realized my risks were placed behind me,
With decisions required decided and retired,
I turned my face skyward and welcomed the night.

The path was yet long for tired feet
But the street quiet, the shops closed and neat;
The darkness felt only soft and sweet
As would coax from the most reticent a melody

To complete the balance of all things,
The stillness that reached deep within
And witnessed a world where trust would lend
To those who journeyed and returned here

A sense of home, though hardly known:
Instinctive meeting of shapes congruent,
A confidence separate from all foundation,
Born of faith and solidarity with strangers

Whose downcast eyes reveal nothing of the will
That nonetheless carried them past the till
To the place of like movement, by like sources moved—
Wordless sympathy immediately known

Impossible to build from word or stone
Or long years spent together or alone.

Known in a moment, lost with the fade
Of misty blue light that softened the stage
Where passions collided when drawn by the promise,
The absolute investment of hope that was honest.

On that quiet midnight street,
The heat of those thoughts ran far and fleet,
But the scratch of pavement rough and real
Assured me that there was more to feel—

That this place, that held such vital breath,
Would last beyond the morning rush
And offer more, more days to touch
If I would stay and make them mine:

A choice just then within my reach,
So onward push my weary feet
And certain rest the restless heart
Of life lived well and full.

The other day, I found myself thinking of it from the perspective that, maybe, it came too easy the first time. And, the moment I thought it, I could see it spread before me—the shape of this time to come, as a path back, to where I’ve been before but forgot how to love. To a place I needed to re-learn to be able to see again. To bring new life to it by virtue of the very path itself, that would make me a different person in a different place just by taking the long way round. I still love that place. I still love those people. I am still on my way toward the heart of them.

The way I miss my apartment is like a restlessness in my bones.

When I think of it, I feel that I’ve given away something I would never have been able to get on my own—something allowed me only by the help, the trouble of others. In that way, it was more precious than I had a right to lose.

The way I miss reaching up to grab hold of the bus and swing myself into place on the tall front seat in one sure movement is enough to carry my feet forward toward whatever street I see, though there will be nothing there to meet me.

That time, in effortless motion, headed toward some sure place with the reason already decided was when I felt confident enough to think of things beyond myself. To take the energy of life that moved around me without need for my involvement and use it to stray down more creative intuition. Until I would be interrupted by a destination that would become part of the lyric.

The way I miss the absolution of being drowned in that soft pearl light, with cool blue pouring over to set us all at rest as his voice fades away...is like when you dream and forget how to breathe.

You wake confused and a little afraid, not trusting if you’ve really found yourself in safety again or are still waiting for memory to reveal the most awful part, the lost reason you gave up breath.

Even if I forget the way, I will walk until my shoes wear through to find the road that leads back to you.

All love is true
I heard him say
From upon a stumbling horse

But as he fell
The daylight turned
And the dreams I knew
Belonged to someone else.

A pair of bright eyes in a crowd...
What does it mean to stare?
I’m a little in love with you, but you won’t always be there.

Still I would give you all my trust
If you reach your hand to me
And whisper that you feel it too,
This instinct of belief.

I’d rather have
one moment true
Than a lifetime of careful proof;

Commitment of another kind
Is where I place my faith:
I do not need fine rings and things,
A house all locked and safe,

Just hold back nothing
Of your heart
And let your soul escape

To meet with mine in honesty
And take what time relates
To us in this unstable world—
A breath before we change.

I’ll think of you
From someplace far
And remember you with care

For all my life, this moment true
I’ll hold in gentlest palms:
A story of life, lived with love,
To carry through night into dawn.