down

a morning of masks and disguises—
each sound that comes from my mouth to them
at odds with a shapeless weight my shoulders bear.
what is it?
a glance, a despairing feeling, and we look down at our feet.
still down, my eyes go to the sky, to the sun.
it was golden when i awoke
and now warm, melting winter bit by bit,
but still i stand before a shadow,
always between the sun and my shadow…
they see me as usual,
but i am the shadow today.

to you

to you who have never seen my face,

every kindness and grace

fall around you.

the song near my window

never seems to cease

and i keep wishing

i could send its rising and falling

on to you.

the sky, the wide night sky

bids me to walk out under it,

if only it were still as wide as it once promised,

i would walk to you.

carry this with you wherever you go.

and if you never see my eyes,

they're looking up

for leaves and sun and shadows...

from below, someday from underneath the ground,

this face will rise,

this soul will fly,

and dust like life's sweet breath

will fall around you.

until then, until the end and ever after,

carry this with you wherever you go.

soft light, like cream,

flows through an endless dream,

two drifters know where once was sorrow

never more shall be,

but only grace.

you know my face

and every kindness it endows.

so to this end, i take your hand

and never lightly.

for two faces without names,

we love so rightly.

"now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. now i know in part; then i shall know fully, even as i am fully known. and now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. but the greatest of these is love." 

1 Corinthians 13:12, 13