I sense you are gone,
where once spirit voices whispered to me
in wake of your sacred pools,
beneath your groves,
where I felt your eyes,
in a way I had never been seen,
calling me back,
the dust in the rear window clouding my vision then.
You remained there,
stories in ancient stones,
and I longed to return to you,
feel your gaze, a galaxy of salt and fresh co-mingling,
cool currents on child brown skin,
where I held my breath,
listening then, to hollow laughter echoing
in the presence of the holy,
where I knew,
held you in my rib cage, in my gut,
a place of holding memory that wasnʻt mine.
And now I hear, from far away,
that you are gone,
her heat pouring over your spirit land,
her creation, your charred succumbing,
every stone enveloped by her being.
Your hollow voice now fills with her blood flow,
your cool ponds, now heat with her longing,
your solid bones have become her body.
ribs of your knowing becoming hers,
as my memory of your seeing
will remain with me.