it's not that
i don't want to yet - something is requiring
a silence
as if my mind were in a library forbidden to speak
my eyes cast in stone
at night i whisper -
trace furtive stains hidden on walls when no one is looking
cottonwood
malachite
zanzibar
as if praising things by name
calling
brothers or kin
singing contours and lines into being
with the sound of my voice
desire
swaying elements into purpose
and sadness echoes in the hollow
knowing i remember
snow
and saltpeter
the sound of rain in solitude
campfires in august
the shape of your trust
when time was a grain of wood
forming from a seed
when cold was lava rock
cooling in the mist
when man was a quivering child
his grace embedded in a lie
your memories clung to me
joyful
exhuberant
unleashed
like so many oceans caressing my face
of leaves in a wind
a time of growing
when laughter and loving came before wanting
wanting instead of waiting
another life when i wasn't
who i am