Revisiting
The drama of your cousins does not live here
yet you remind me
of Hay Bluff and the Olchon
I feel relief looking at you
like a possible friend
Here in spring
wild garlic smells fill the car
the road to you twists through banks of green and white
and I’m home again,
walking the woods, collecting leaves to make pesto
I heard larks sing at your feet and breathed out.
In the other place they flew like butterflies around my head
listening kindly
Here they chatter, maybe they will welcome me,
will beckon me to sing with them.
Now it’s close to winter as leaves float
the view of you is full of echoes,
pasts and futures
waiting to greet me.
You soothe and hurt
holding both my hands.
Some days passing you by I am light
a song sings, a promise
that something is arriving.
Some days I am stuck
not knowing the way to forward
or if there is a way at all
You look back at me unperturbed
standing still and solid witnessing
my silent inside worlds.
You are going nowhere
you have time, I’m not the first
many have passed this way before
there is no explaining