I would like to see you
through a crowd of half-drawn faces,
and though I would not recall
the name that they’ve raised around you,
you would reach me somehow,
across these oceans and
nights of the unsayable
that separate us like fears.
Maybe you could never return
my hopeful song set down on these waves
that bring all things to their heart’s intention,
but still your silence would come to me;
and I would stall and fret how to reply.
Ah, what, in the end, would I know of you,
and the foreign continents that shift within you,
yet I would be changed from
when I first gathered up
the scattered motives of the day,
and crossed all those thresholds to here.
It is in an almost unperceived gesture
that I would feel the colours grow nearer, fiercer,
the way you look up, away, and gaze,
as if you are a mirror for the world to peer into.
And what would I see returned?
Some stalking promise,
some challenge burned on the retina of the sky,
some purpose I would love to be.