I Want You To Know This
You really should know how things are,
watching the moon wax and wane
only to wax again
and seasons change one to the next
as in some small ways do I,
when I place my hand
in the cold ash
where once a consuming fire
carried sparks to the heavens
a palpable substance remains,
a lingering aroma
pungent and steeped in tears
hopes, laughter and fears;
you may think it mad
this well of feelings
that believed yours destined for mine.
Where the sun seeks
and climbs to your lips
it seeks mine too
repeating all in me
where nothing was extinguished
or forgotten
while my roots have set off
to seek another land.
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