Breathe With You

Breathe With You

(“We cared so much for you that we were pleased to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own lives, because you had become dear to us.” 1 Thessalonians 2:8)

I would wait forever until sunlight replaced
the rain of tears, the claustrophobia of clouds
that dropped upon your nerves as you stood
at the threshold of the auditorium that held
the next experiment. Storms come from nowhere
while sunlight dances beyond the threshold
in the auditorium where
she smiles like a beauty queen
wiser than all the students of meteorology:
warming globally or aging icefully.

I would breathe with you, slowly, each weekend
the drones followed their pipers, leaving you to
be better than following, wiser than magnetism,
surer in your skin, improvised, without/within,
based upon the classics; a spark, not a conflagration;
a starter, not a copy of every day lived by thousands before.

I would carry your bags daily, sweat or chill,
until you knew the steps, rep after rep,
and left me behind one day to fly away
into the cloudless sky. You are the choreographer,
the lyricist, the weather’s director

Flying where few have begun,
walking in and out of the sun,
singing what rarely is sung,
and, closing in on the last day,
but barely begun,
I’ll watch you far beyond those
with party lines and worker days,
because your dream lasted longer than
the storm. Your dance twirled final and
first until,

Beginning and uncertain, you
heard the curtain close, the applause and laughter,
the sun leaped up the next day after,
you had flown above the clouds,
softly aloud, and landed exactly
where your heart could wander and love
forward of the crowd, a leader, a teammamte
and master, unscattered by paperclip
anxieties, and a home for the next few
who needed to hear their souls were created
a masterpiece, no print or copy;
a home decorated for the next few
who you knew were just like you,
and more unique than sunrays or snowflakes
a million times over.