To be a surface, sometimes water
and to echo distant constellations of probability
to shift and twist as we fight a current
to smile, cat's paws on the sea skin.
A palm-tree is what my mirror shows
instant sunshine, shallow roots
a sensuous dance, a spiral meaning
loveliness hidden among bladed fronds.
Where are we? I can see the question...
For once, I'll be this clear:
I'm writing to say that passion without freedom
Words without silence
Journeys without space
War without forgiveness
and these miles of dirt without you at the end of the road
are just as empty as my own home
without that shade of bouganvillea
I just can't imagine living without.