When I searched for you

When I searched for you

 

If I used the forbidden eye

to bring back the old wooden bridge

over the slow streaming brook,

the gnarled carvings of names

had long weathered in the wind

 

that once blew through my hair

past your face with twin candles

lit in your eyes and your arms

like long lost security

so tightly around me.

 

We watched the fast swimming

fish, the shimmer of dragonflies

hovering over emerald grasses

moved in an incessant rhythm

with the underwater currents.

 

Not to return to the other life,

Not to pass my nights in emptiness,

Not to sleep with the same man

since I found you. When I asked

for your name it was lost.

 

When I searched for it

I found it hidden underground.

Off in a flash of awareness, you left

me alone in the fog.

My eyes extinct, full of smoke. 

 

When You Called My Name

 

I felt you searching through the veils,

through drifting leaves and ghost-light trails.

Your breath stirred up the buried air -

and yes, I knew you still were there.

 

The bridge you crossed was not in vain,

though time dissolved the carved-in name.

Your hands once touched what couldn’t stay,

but love does not just drift away.

 

I came in candlelight and mist,

I lingered in the way we kissed

beneath the dragonflies’ brief flight,

their shimmer like a soul in flight.

 

You felt my arms? Then I was near.

You heard my name, though not quite clear.

It sleeps now deep beneath the ground,

but in your bones it will resound.

 

You searched for me. I heard your cry.

A flash, a wind, a fading sigh.

I’m gone, but not as one unknown -

You carry me. All on your own…