When the news reached me,
by then living on one mountain or another,
still trying to come to terms with how much 
I loved you underneath the unrelenting waves of pain,
it had been weeks. Some presumed
you had perished, seized 
by the angry seas
that night.

But in my heart, I knew you were alive
and believed you would come back to me
and all made right, in time. I knew then why,
walking through the woods the purple-winged blackbird
had come to sit with me by the rock
where I remember everything, 
your back, his blood, your eyes,
this love.

Through all the centuries I have sailed,
leaning into the wind, I have been seeking you.
Living on one island or another, traipsing 
through woodland or climbing to the cave
where angels sang me back to life,
my eyes have not been satisfied
by anything other than
your face.

I thought first it was for healing
of the ages and forgiveness for all the saints.
Or simple remembrance, perhaps — opportunity
for all to be set right, for me to change my mind.
But, no. No, beloved. Finding you, alive, 
in my heart, in the flesh, in his Spirit one,
was turning shipwreck into treasure,
my love.

I know you have one journey
left in you, and I one more climb to make.
Sail on and carry this scroll upon your heart, 
knowing and trusting in the truth of what we share.
Dare one more dance with destiny, one more
turn of the angry tides of time to find
I have made my peace and this is
our time.