In the Middle of the Between

December 5, 2007

This is not love:

this winding of tiny green shoots
through old branches, brittle, fragile.
It is growth.

Sand through a sieve,
images through a dream.
Silence between songs,
Love is absence as much as presence.

You are love,
big eyed, fiercely crying out.

Love is a cloak around me
a presence inside me
a fire to warm me
a mirror to see me

a key, that frees me.