So, here we are again,
Standing on two sides of this great chasm
Created by and for our stupidity.
Words can barely cross this space;
My hand forgets how soft your skin is,
For there is no bridge left to connect our souls.
I sit in silence, too tired
To set my little birds of words to flight
Across the ever-widening canyon
Only to watch them struggle and
Sometimes fall.
I sit with eyes closed, too numb
To care if you bothered
To let your birds free.
I'm too sad to search for your eyes
Looking across, looking for me
Only to see nothing except
A turned back.
Time keeps passing without measure
And, only sometimes, I methodically release my birds,
With a message inked across their wings.
But now, I no longer watch them fly
Or wait to see if any return.
Finally, after I have long run out of
The bitter food left on my side of the chasm
And the last drops of muddy water
Slides temptingly down my throat,
A poor, broken bird flops down,
Crawling into my dusty lap,
Carrying a thimble of water and food.
That one little bird calls out weakly
And spreads its wings out with the last of its strength
So that I can read the message on its wings.
Moments pass in a different kind of silence,
With this precious bird in my hands.
Setting it gently in a spare cage,
I take one of my own birds,
Paint a message across its feathers
And set it free to you, waiting
For a reply on the other side.
Happily, I sit back down,
Watching my bird fly across with a hope
Flowing steadily throughout my soul.
Over and over, I re-read your message in my mind:
I love you.
Over and over, I remember my response
And wait for your reply
With a smile on my face, thinking:
I love you, too.

12/04/2008

Posted on 12/04/2008
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