Newport Beach, CA, USA
The first time I posted this it got all screwed up so I am posting again..apologies to the three who already read it....
The Way It Goes
This is the way it goes,
the way your heart
turns in upon itself.
You turn one day and see his face;
you've never seen him there before,
but he smiles and it's like coming home.
You share the days and then the nights,
Then one day you turn again,
and he is gone.
Your heart beats his name
like an ancient chant,
your arms are like water.
You dream his voice every night,
hear his step at the door,
but he is not there.
You know that he is gone
but your heart won't open for the fact,
it lingers in the air outside you.
You pull your scarf closer against your ears
and breathe his name into the wind.
Winter will be colder now.
© Beki (1989)
"We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion.....the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"
--John Keating, Dead Poets Society