how long has it been, my soul?
how many years have i been gone?
not as many as it seems, i hope,
though often, with us, hope
smolders and burns out in
our seemingly neglected hearth.
the warmth still lingers, though, and
with it remains a timber of charred contentment.

i'm missing you, now, more and more,
as the minutes tick by.
(whomever said that Time
is our friend is both
villain and mislead...)

you've been in a yo-yo evolution, i think.
changing, to be sure, but having to back-track,
then begin anew at the most inopportune intervals and stages.
(then again, redoing any work of progress
is never convenient;
and, to most, quite the item of frustration...)

my heart, i had a revelation:
i believe myself to be an Ancient.
neither above, nor below the Present...
i simply exist.
the secrets and knowledge
i've come to acquire -- by fortune,
or ill-fate, is only your guess --
have remained pebbles in my shoes.
(an ever mocking reminder, yet i'm sometimes
able to be shaken loose...)
i should exchange my footwear, i think.
perhaps things might rearrange themselves
if those grain-rocks suddenly found themselves
evicted.

perhaps...
perhaps.

come home soon, will you?
(it feels all the more empty and desolate
with only your ghost
to keep me company.)

07/22/2003

Posted on 07/22/2003
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe