Image courtesy of
i.imgur.com
Since I drove right by it
on my GPS selected route
on my way to dinner
with friends,
I had to stop:
Here now— pulled over, paying reverence,
to time, youth, innocence, tragedy
When we loved each other
in this home we made together.
Here— this moment of reverence paid
unlocks the door of a room
where you are kept
preserved in perfection,
untainted by guilt
by tragedy
by the judgement
I rendered upon you
in my innocent ignorant self-righteousness
and so unleashed our tragedy upon us.
Now— could I travel that twisted high wire of time
back through the forty years
yet keep the wisdom of lessons
learned of forgiveness and judgment—
we would be young lovers
starting out again
and I would gift
you treasures of ancient gods and goddesses—
olive oil, an olive tree to plant,
casks of rose water,
roughly hewn amber, the mythic tears,
in which we could be captured.
I raise my head, turn my eyes to the road ahead,
locking the door to that place
where you are kept
preserved in perfection:
Sitting in the window seat,
your head tilted to the light,
sunlight glistening off your copper color hair,
smile wide as you lift your drawing pad
and pencil,
and begin to sketch,
your thin lovely hand floating
in movement above the page.
There,I leave you once again,
As I drive away.
