shadows six

Shadows merge and imprint.

A skipper, eyes bright
and blue as the Mediterranean.
”See each other soon?
Otherwise we’ll get too old.”

A young son of the revolution,
through a cigarette-dragged smirk.
”Remember when
nothing else mattered?”

A great northerner,
on knees — face buried.
”Boy,
that’s so sweet.”

A friend’s friend,
husky and gentle.
”He is one
lucky man.”

A luminary, untouchable,
riding the edge.
”This is really our only chance.
I’m sorry.”

A vagabond,
hair as wild as his spirit.
”I only buy tickets
one-way these days.”

They say,
you give a piece of your heart
to every person who feels your shadow.

But isn’t that the point?

To weave our webs,
merge our wildernesses,
in defiance of what is already broken -

to make a different move -
to care for tenderly
and in turn
to be cared tenderly for?

To even so, still be
and, be able to walk across
insurmountable heat,
scorched earth,
under our tread.

Because, joined, we walk.
Deep inside, we stride -
and with me,
your every thing.

And isn’t that the point?