The cadence of your soul

Your heart was like a forest lake
Pulling into it the summer night.
Your mind was like a grove
Of fir trees kneeling
Before the shadow-spirited fell.
The cadence of your soul
Was like a vein of sea
Too far inland to bother
About storms.
Your dreams were like the quiet whoosh
Of willows
On the heaven-scraping moors
In spring.
But your face…
Your face has been made invisible
By the transparent blue fog
Of time and distance.
Thank God, that was the most
Insignificant part
of who you were.

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Where you hide your words

In leafy shadows
Where you hide your words
From the sun –
Evasive like the feathers of sparrows
In snow-winds,
Without knowing how a mute
Tender moon climbs into your eyes.
There is the hollow red blood
Of dying autumn –
An imploded loneliness
Where I sense you:
Your heart muscles and your
Stiff forest of nerves.
Your stone cold words
Hesitantly screaming
In vein for something
That was always yours:
My forgiveness.

The softest human touch

There is a strange nudity
In your secrets,
Like something waiting
In the shadow of tall weeds,
Climbing into kitchen windows
Where old couples
Decipher the songs
Of the wind.
In wet leaves braided
With black veins
And the scent of overripe apples
Scattered in the old garden.
Even the blue lawn seat
Shows signs of those gentle caresses.
But the softest human touch
Is the silence of inarticulate love
While you wait for
The right words.

We are rivers

We are all rivers cascading
From different peaks.
I see you running
Towards the ocean,
Tumbling in between rocks.
But above you, where you
Refuse to look,
There is a pale, but determined
Sun.
And when I see your
Foaming raging breath,
There are colors
In every angry tear,
Transforming even your screams
Into something beautiful.