cerulean loss and
snow-lined streaks of
hope were
painted in that voice.
.
you called me, wounded, happy and
tired from the cove of shadows and
ancient trees, and I ran, right into
that darkness filled with ghosts.
.
you whispered,
first softly and then
you moaned, sang the
tune of desperation.
.
did the wise owl fly away,
did the prowling beasts
just watch, frozen in
the shrubs?
.
the fool I was, thinking
how I mattered, how the
world had stopped for me
as I darted through the
knee-high grass and the
persistent weeds!
.
you whistled and the
rustling leaves shuffled, and then ibises
flew to infinity.
.
for how long did I chase
shadows I thought were
you? they were laughing at me,
the jungle ghouls, weren’t they; as I
raced
endlessly, until I withered, until I
lay upon the sacred tree that
watched silently
as the hissing vines
wrapped around my body,
sucked up all my blood,
sang to me the
sweetest
hymns of peace.
