Four summers I saw you:
consecutive chance… coincidence;
I used to believe in that, you know.

… Memphis, 1982.
…. Gatlinburg, 1983.
….. Black Mountain, 1984.
…… Atlanta, 1985.

Were there other summers
I found you who I had lost before?

Odd moments for me, really:
a roar of rushing wind, force
of truth, consumed me
while I donned
a shroud of mystery,
afraid of something
so beautiful
I trembled
to behold it
and let it go again.

Time was suspended
and all was still but two
heartbeats throbbing,
lives and longing
synchronized
and something
set in motion
as another thing
settled and probed
deep into memory.

In 1987 I heard your voice
on the other end of a telephone,
and the Earth itself shifted
on its axis. And still
I pretended
not to know you,
not to die
and live again
or come deeper
into truth.
It seemed
right and
rational
to resist.

And so I revolved
faithfully around you,
remaining so many years
just far enough away
to allow the balance
of oblivion’s pull
to keep me from
falling
onto your surface,
cratered with soft places
and basking in natural light.

Knowing you
not knowing you
knocked me
out of orbit.
The force of you
split me into
a thousand raining meteors,
shooting stars
burning up
burning out
in the void.

And at the last possible moment
I tried to shine or flicker
this light of truth inside me,
but a shadow passed between us
and you could not,
or would not, see,
nor would you
remember me.

Floating aimlessly
in the outer reaches
of this galaxy you love,
I am that matter of you
disowned,
called separate,
denied as your truth.
But you cannot
deny the wild wind
that wraps herself
around your conviction solid
and moves through you
as a storm of light,
your rain of certainty.