by Mark Evan Chimsky
But of course you must leave
for your feet are seeking ground
they have not found before
and grass a color
that others have not seen.
I travel the roads inside
your eyes, the wildernesses and the forests
and the waters that beckon you
more than home or hands or even love.
You let me see the way light flatters
a leaf, how a sunset turns
your solitude to prayer.
I am there as you wander through the dark
and lay your head wherever the earth is hardest
as wild creatures do, not looking for sleep
but for the deep scent of something ancient,
beneath what can be seen or known.
I try to find the part of you that you are searching for
in your dreams of a land before language,
where fire speaks of the humble
sinew and bone it has conquered.
and makes you step closer
to the flame, closer to whatever it is
that you cannot even name
as you open yourself
to fear and faith
the way the Blue Morpho unfolds
its wings for the first time and feels
what it is like to lose itself
on a single breath of air.