I followed you. Around the corners of houses, through sticks pounded into the ground creating our wooden gates, between rows of pecan trees and sunflower airstrips, across rivers you've swam, into, the the tangle and bramble of your sacred forest. The place where you cut your hair and
tore your gown.

Over stripped down dead brown leaves.

Between finger branches teething, scratching.

Beneath moss
a green blanket
hiding and hanging.

Up into the tree you crawled
into the cradeling limbs where
you wept and dreamt,
then found yourself laying at the top,
at the edge.

It's oay now, forgiving first of yourself
for now forgiving them. Now they will know
that I leaned down and over you
whisped the curls of your hair.

...........and then,
followed through.

Wake up now, the sun is risen.

Pounding through the curtians...........
that once felt harsh to your eyes.

To Amias~
~From Liquid


Don Iannone said...

Exquisitely lovely. Powerful images provoked.

Amias said...

This piece is so amazing! I am indeed honored.

iamnasra said...

Its amazing poem and to Amias...Wow Im very touched