[24 November 2020]
I hear you breathe, and you
breathe – long, deep, filling the
space of your silences with the air
of being, of seeing, of making maps
and making meaning out of these two
lightpoles in the night – go stop, go
stop, go stop, blinking on and on –
of our not-innocence, of journeying
through the distances, carving portals
between the long-forgotten and the
age-old. I stand in-between. Every
breath you breathe travels between
them, hovers above the waters, stirs the
passions, is the channel. I feel it
all around me. I see it all – the end,
the beginning, the in-betweens, the before-the-
beginnings and the after-the-ends and all the
strands of possibility interwoven that
bring us to that one inevitable conclusion.
Being. I breathe you in. You breathe me
out. I scry the waters above and the
waters below, searching for a word,
a sign, listening through each exhale
for a phrase that I can hang onto,
something that might give me
solid ground.
But that is not you. You exist
in the in-betweens, the before-
beginnings and after-ends. You
are the passageway between here and
herafter. And I –
I am a leaf, a bark. Held in your
current, moved by your breath, rocked
in your waves.
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