What We Were

Restless emptiness

Of all the concave blackness

Between the stars–

I remember, think upon

Dwell for a moment in

All the perfection–imperfections

Of you and me and us,

Counting our flaws,

Irritating grains of sand become

A time worn comfortable effortlessness

In our bruising brutality

Of what we were and were not,

Wanted to be and dreamed,

Taking for granted

A rarity of feathered softness

We barely recognized

Was there–

Until now.

Wait for me

In the place

Where we are washed clean

Of anger for what we

Never were nor could be,

Strived to be, wanted to be.

One day I will join you there,

And we, not storybook characters of dreams,

Breathing in the sweetness of air,

Admit, knowing what we truly were

Mattered—

Sweet and real,

Stars and the concave blackness.