Tuesday, January 7, 2014

I. conversations with ghosts serene

do you remember nightfall on the coldest
night of the coldest year, the wind
after howling
the entire day
us climbing
between smooth, frosty sheets
frigid toes and feet overlapped
like the child's game with stacked hands
only this time the bottom one wins

after an evening in front of the fire
remember—you do, don't you?—
the many faces lit bright and hot
equal measure
of flame and fierce bonds
love beyond the sting, the frozen froth
of seawater, the stoney peaks, the abandoned
mill, the silent fields
dead above
but not below

there is a sound
that comes to me, no sound
you or i have ever heard before, a cry
like laughter, laughter
like a cry
to penetrate all chill—frightening?
no....bold, knowing—
it is time to listen to them
let them in
—the grandmothers, mothers, cousins
aunts, daughters, friends—they are here

expecting us to set off, become
part of the bluecold landscape
but we will risk
linking tears, laughter
sorrowjoy mixed along a calendar
of days telling where to go and when
and how one minute we're shivering
the next we're wiping sweat off our necks

1 comment:

Leonora said...

Very nice.
"Fierce bonds of love beyond the sting", The deepest kind of love.
This speaks of a journey to me.