The Haven
by Steven Craig
And a whole herd of little horses
stampeded through the edge of her vision,
making clouds of questions,
laces of dreams,
places for the heart to follow
held closely as if in a spell.
Soon
there occurred a silence,
like the night before the rise
of the waning moon
where the sea and the shore
became a merged crease across the mind
and the sounds were those of footfalls
upon moist sand.
The dream catcher was afoot,
on the open country
he came to dwell in each womans soul,
a warmth that passed only slowly in the night,
taking its time in the night,
to fade with the embers of the night,
but still not to be found with the dawn.
In the morn,
when the eyes searched the sky,
there was a fresh face among the dunes,
one that held her breath long,
for she had in it the taste
of the nights passing,
the mist of a fair and distance shore
to which she held her hopes,
pinned her dreams,
and made for herself a haven.
There was never a doubt in her soul,
though the tears were just at the eyes rim,
that in passing there
would be a day
that would make her rich in emotion,
and fair in the flames
of those who sought her.
From the circle about her,
stepped forth only one,
and he did not see who she was,
for he had seen past all the walls
and the flame that of which had warmed her
his hand had touched the cheek
upon which the tear had frozen,
and made it change to a glow.
The touch awoke her,
and she released the breath held dear.
She turned to face him,
but was now alone,
the circle was not there,
the flame was not even an ember,
the man was not to be seen.
She traced the outline
of the world beyond her grasp
and south to the distant shore,
but only she and the ocean remained,
vital and alive,
but alone once more.
She parted from the dune
and walked the path
through the reedsand grasses
to a place that only the wind knew.
And there she made for herself
an abode in her mind,
and would await his coming
again
through out all time.
11/09/2007
