POEM - Through the Detour

In a field of blossoming flames,

she asks me to stop walking

It’s a familiar song and dance by now,

but I remain pleased to appease her

The dusk is decaying into darkness

And, though I’ve already about-faced,

she’s telling me to turn around;

to look back at it

So it is that I look

So it is that I attempt doing all the more

she’s wanting me to join her in thinking

and feeling,

yet not admitting;

this time, no different than the last

Well, almost no different, I should say

The truth is that we lose a little ground

every time I indulge her in this

The weather grows warmer

in spite of the late season

The sky seems brighter

in spite of the failing daylight

And the smoke rolls in

like an inescapable fog

in spite of the ever-increasing distance

we’ve put between us and that home-fire

which turned on us

I don’t know how to break it to her,

the fact that all those yellow spots

to be seen among the grass

are not daisies;

they’re doom

I kept hoping the moon’s arrival

would rouse her from this denier’s bargain

Only now is it dawning upon me

that such begging denial is mine as well

After all, what good could the moon do

if the sky were too shrouded for it

to be seen once it’s risen?

Perhaps I only started us walking

away from the burning end of our

dream-built kingdom because I’m the one

who’s not yet ready to choke on the ice

of whatever’s still left for us in this world

But as I watch all the dead love

spew forth its lifeless ashes,

I feel a pull which doesn’t

immediately register

I’m flying backward on my feet

at great speed

My eyes fight letting go of them;

all those realized wishes, now combusting

“Goodbye, my sweet babies.”

a voice in my head whispers

My tearful eyes turn to see her hands

pulling me free of the fires;

her own eyes, undeniably alive yet again

And forward we flee

until our feet find water

On a stolen boat, we scream ourselves

to sleep; only to wake when

that bright satellite finally shows

The worst day of our lives is behind us

We are now afloat in its night;

numb to tomorrow

All I feel is uncertain as to why I

should even keep breathing

But then I sense her fingers

coiling among my own,

and am forced to silently admit

that I haven’t lost everything

At least one part of my heart

has survived