We Might Be Halfway There

We Might Be Halfway There

(“Love isn’t rude. It doesn’t think about itself. It isn’t irritable. It doesn’t keep track of wrongs.” 1 Corinthians 13:5)

From the time it has taken so far
we might be halfway there. The territory
is unfamiliar;
the road signs, riddled with birdshot,
are unreadable.

We could turn back.
But we will not.
We know where we’ve been
better than where we are going.

We left friends behind, it is true,
but only the future holds daylight in its hands.

I saw you on my video screen 20 years after
the last time we drank coffee in the rain.
I only tuned in to see what the man was preaching,
and your eyes, weary but smiling, were the same eyes
that teased me late summers at the powwow grounds.

I tried to call you, but it did not go through. I wish I
could share the etchings I’ve drawn like
friends share a glass of wine.

Time is a bird that returns to its roost,
that builds permanent nests next to current events.
So we take our time
and spend it too much along.
So we remember the moments
and populate our days with neural images,
undreamed states of being.

I will try to call you again before
the end of the day.