There’s been too much time away from how you twist and turn when the wild inside spins up like a sufi dancer bringing in a storm. I’ve ached for your morning touch and the silence between us that throbs through hidden veins that none but us can see. There’s been twinges of regret as I’ve launched daily away from the tenderness that is you. And I.
I’ve wept out there in hunger for the halcyon that joins us and wondered if anyone noticed that pieces of me were missing. Like a fallen limb ripped from her host, dropped with a thud in unlikely return, I made my way daily away. Away. Into a maze of light and sound of humans that sometimes cross over into a cacophony of assumptions and overheard conversation pulled up as evidence for the real. When it’s not.
I tried, tried to glue back the limbs but always the ghosts would tag along sensing themselves unaccounted for. I made my imaginings of you drenched in rain and dropping into nighttime without me, lonely. Lonely for us and what we’ve come to be. Those imaginings could transport themselves into whimsy and sometimes cause delight to bleed through the well. Oh well.
I’m back from the city like a prodigal daughter, arms bruised and belly bloated on sometimes food and mixed messages. Back from the city barbed and wired, antennae tangled and hooks ripped through skin ready to be cleansed. Washed. I’ll pull naked feet through cedar dirt wiping the sting of concrete from their flesh and purge that asphalt from this maimed and wounded marrow. I’ll sit with you until I drop back into us. Us.