I work in a comfortable chair,
like a throne of losing oneself
when all I want is plumes of hallowed falls,
force and light, diverting,
merging, mixing and swirling our escape;
let's go now, cut through cityscapes
out into dark Georgia, north,
up through Blue Ridge and those Elven places
we easily lose in the day-to-day.
My lovely Aria...remember lighthouses—
how they pulled your spirit to water.
Remember your fingers were like branched diamonds,
how your grip craved mountains,
and you knew your thoughts could create worlds—
ones your mind showed your heart how to love.
Remember days, before you knew language,
when strong hands meant love, when your smile
was a precious gift to your mother.
Remember when you ran with force,
your blood like a storm,
feet mighty on the earth.
Within you are unwritten poems, love songs,
words you wanted to speak to your father,
wine barrels, unopened, aged to reason,
a hoped-for memory of a tiny pull on your breast.
You, once called bright eyes, swan song, sacred star,
now, a temple of a billion burning suns.
I know you said you wanted to be a strong woman,
and I'd rather war with you and know you
than be alone with a half-smile face.
Let me take your hand, walk through black ridges
till we find moonlight, clear,
lay down in the way
you wanted to be overcome;
we'd bloom as ancients in Appalachia.
And you'd tell me at our camp fire
you only felt vacant because the world
sometimes makes us forget our names.
And I'd tell you the only someone to be with
is someone who doesn't make you feel alone.
***
When the day ends, I want to be a flowing fire
mingled in our blood till we can't help but run,
our hot skin seeking that dragon—
the one we knew we had to face.
And I want to touch you
in the way I worship a sacred a place,
kneeling to find reverence
in the slow moments,
your music in me, and I in you.
I'm told blue stars are the hottest,
and they burn out the fastest,
but a red dwarf can burn for ten trillion years—
I don't care if we're red or blue,
I just want to be with you
for whatever time we're given,
and I want us to have purpose,
the kind that only comes about
from a life of mistakes and chances.
Isn't it odd how we hid for fun when we were children
and now older, we hide when we forget our strength.
But we are elemental, and you know Bowie said 'wild is the wind',
and wild are we meant to be.
So let's walk away from sounds and cities,
hard workers and the ambitious,
let's go visit desert wraiths;
let's seek ghosts who rest as nightingales
on a salt-burned earth.
I've not been a traveler in a long time;
I never wanted to go alone,
perhaps too cynical, perhaps afraid
of this world and my own shadow,
or maybe I just wanted a good enough reason,
other than curiosity, to go forth into the chaos.
But you, I'd explore with you, just to watch your face
witness the reluctant magic of this life;
let's go find auroras and places to rest,
and we'll find monsters to overcome,
and with each other, we'll be overcome,
as we write our names on each other's bodies,
with what is seen, and loved, and vanquished, day-by-day.