You startled me
In not so much your words,
But your approach.
It was fast
And filled my head
With nonsense words
And warmth
When you weren’t there.
So, I went under
And swallowed
The surge. And above
My head is swirling water.
My hand slapping at the surface,
Desperate for structure
Steep stone. Then
My fingers finding rooted edge
Holding ground,
Finally. Almost out of breath
When I pulled myself up.
Entwined in mine, fingers
Not rooted mass, but flesh.
That took the shape
Of mysteries ability
To suddenly deliver me
Upon the edge was all
That I was meant to be.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
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