The Great Migration

We find ourselves holding hands
Like children
Heading towards a busy crossing
Determined to cross
But frozen in our tracks
In headlight
Not from signals
But from signs pointing in every direction but home
We know the way home
From memory
Like the squiggly lines in our palms
Etched from ancient riverbeds
That have long dried out
We have made this journey
A thousand times in our sleep
With feet made of rubber tires
And soles packed with fresh tar
And, we have danced
In the middle of this street
Like children
Kicking dust in our own eyes
From the celebration
Ducking beneath trucks and taxi cabs
Running bare feet
With sunken eyes and wild hair
Caught between our teeth
Yet, we find ourselves inching towards
The divergence
Holding hands
Waiting for another sign?

Musical Chairs

Unable to face the music
I kept tracing my fingernails
Around the edges of your bruise
Hoping to feel the cipher
Hidden inside your bump
But, it eluded me like a lucid dream
Unwilling to reveal itself until the bitter end

When I watched your skin stretch tautly
Beyond its natural limits- sideways
and forward– hardening slowly
Into a massive hole, I knew
Time had forsaken me
So, I bargained with the Universe
One last time, in a heightened pitch
Begging for another miracle
To save me
But, I had run out of chairs, my love
And the music had stopped playing
Only my ears were still ringing
With the sound of your voice saying,
I’ve rescued you.

All I can do now is keep surrendering
Into your unconditional love
Remembering everything you’ve taught me
Over and over again
Like an ocean searching for a bay…