Longing

I see you, somehow. Through the earth,

Through the dirt and dust which are the promise

To this body that dies a little every day.

I see you, within the vast grandeur of your shadowed kingdom,

Restless and waiting, like me,

A part of you always in expectation.

This lifetime has been a pain and an emptiness.

This summer has stretched on for far too long.

My eyes tear from the stabbing brilliance of the sun.

The air is heavy with the scent of rotting fruit.

The trees are limp with too much heat. The air is still.

I burn here, above ground. Unbearable thirst.

I press my face upon the soil,

As if kissing the grave of one who was lost,

But I am grieving for one who never came.

I mourn over this grave of possibility.

A loss keener for the absence of any memory.

A story hollow yet heavy with longing.

I hear you. The slow pacing of your feet through

The beautiful halls of your cold dark castle,

The conversations you have with someone not there.

I hear you because you are speaking to me,

Even though you do not know it, I am here,

Consumed by fire, wanting you.

I breathe in and I smell pomegranates.

Your garden is filled with them.

Your heart is empty of me.

Listen closely. Soon your raven army

Will tell you of someone on the edge of death,

Unable to pass over, and you would have to come then.

For that is how it has been told and foretold.

You will find me, and then you will take me away.

Literally sweep me off my feet.

I will go with you, without a fight, with only

A token of resistance, a fragment of old doubts,

And in all truthfulness, more relief than dismay.


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