Why I Weep

I weep because you are so close, and
I weep because I am so far away.

Wet Morning

Mountains smeared across the window glass.
The far shore obscured by mist.
Clouds hang low, snagging in the trees,
branches drip, rain in rain.
My thoughts are slippery from all the water.
Do I go? Do I stay?
The answers run off the grebe's back
and are lost in the sea.

Turned

Damn it!
The world has turned again
and I am suffused with anxiety.
Sure, I can deal with it; live through it.
Done it for almost 50 fucking years.
I just wish it would leave me alone;
the fear is useless and
it has stymied the best of me, and
the best in me, for the better part of my life.

I don't think its a lack of courage, of taking a stand.
The Buddhists would love the reason -
there is no place to stand,
nothing to face, nothing to fight.
How do you stand up to nothing (even as it destroys you)?

I see that I have claimed the world has turned.
That is incorrect. I'm sure its me.
Like a kaleidoscope, rotated by an unknown hand,
and, in an instant,
all things are shown in a new perspective,
in which people, light, and love advance or retreat,
or later, as it seems in this state, never were.

Do you wonder why I reach for your hand?
Do you understand how your warm leg
thrown over mine, your hand on my chest, or
your face pressed into the side of my neck,
brings them all rushing back, brings me rushing back?
At least for a time - a sweet, precious time.
Do you know, love,
of my infinite gratitude?
Do you know, love,
of my infinite fear?