Now

all my hope

is invested in the mountain.

It harbours possibility,

maybe, an encounter.

 

Many childhood's delicate soul

is hidden on that mountain.

 

I don’t know where your smile lies abandoned

or your unfinished stare.

Your half-

buried body betrays

what has been done.

Harm befell me when I looked back. 

I grasped the truth – 

the encounter's last gift –

too late.Remember harvest-time?

Wheat, as it fell to the blade,

showing the world who we are.

The poplars shivered that day,

the air lifted

with the joys of spring.

I don't know what we talked about.

But I know what was unspoken.It went astray in the rustling poplars.

It was moving in our blood the unspoken.

But it's too late –

so late,

that I will find no-one

even if I climb the mountain.No night between us 

nor fire nor waiting.

 

There is only a mountain!