Tuesday, February 17, 2015


Intentions beyond this ledge
are jagged cliffs, pine trees
and a lonely lake.
Sorrow of a lost arrow, misdirected.
It's not enough to open your hands
and say come away with me.
It's not enough to close one's eyes
and not see the painful landscape
where I once lived.

Murky water, thick as milk,
I was treading so long in.
Now the ghost is back, coming
into view--and each step closer,
just as fearful of losing again.
Grasp me, quick.  Pull my nakedness
in with your warmth. Open me up to
possibilities of strength and heights
of mountains again.

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