reaching out

I reach out
I reach out again

just reaching

just enough to understand
the feeling that comes with

reaching out

memory

a small ripple
a wave,
a tsunami.
the sound
of a promise
surrendering
to a memory

wind in the pines
a soft whisper
a dog barks
the wind stops
then continues again

i ended up there,

close enough

to reach out

but not quite

always just out of reach

trying to understand what kept pulling at me

during the late hours

in the stillness

but that feeling of being so close

felt like pressing my hands

against a pane of glass

unable to break through

unable to really live

only able to see the

almost that was just beyond

the thin
smoke curled.

It rose from the chimney,
just so.

the wind carried the scent of
your hair

and with it
the colors of evening.

i tested the waters

dipping my toes

but the lake was made of silence

that had turned a perfect blue

the calendar blurred
the
boundaries between the
days;
we are
navigating silently,
where we are.

I could
but the key to the lock
was a
forgotten language
its words lost
to time and silence.

shadows

of hands reaching

to face

of naked flesh

of hands to body

of being

and of becoming

The snow
had fallen overnight.
I was asleep.
I was away.
Somewhere far away.
Why always
away?