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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I paused—not choice, for bodies sometimes still, Before the mind invents a reasoned cause; The enclosure breathed, obeying its own will, Its timbers dark with sleep’s residual laws. My hand received this fact, unbidden, cold, Somewhere a weight shifted, not yet heard; A glance prolonged, a shrug half-shy, half-bold, The breath misplaced between two failing words. It seemed exact to count the lives I named, Not tenderly, but as one counts small change; A moment held as if the world had framed A lease, while meaning slithered out of range. I miscounted—always do, the error keeps Its quiet economy, its stubborn claim; The heart retains a glance that lingers, sleeps, A touch not asked, a warmth without a name. We speak of belonging when we mean This has not yet departed, still it clings; The tongue crowns what dwells, though never seen, Mistaking presence for the flight of wings. I came with that old ache, inherited, Not chosen—bone and breath alike conspire; To call a hand, a voice, a hearth, my bed, And heat the interval with own desire. Family. Friend. Love. Words held their place, Until the shifting light dissolved their claim; Not treachery, but nature’s quiet grace, That alters pattern while the frame stays same. This life is not a home, but transient fire, A canvas lit for those who pause awhile; We share the heat, exchange the glance, the mire, Then shoulder packs and walk another mile. I thought the peg might root the earth, remain; That dawn would pause, if asked, to hold its line; It does not; yet the folly leaves no stain, And still the moment presses, sharp, divine. Change is exact; it finishes its task; It needs no malice, no apology; The hands withdraw, the truths themselves unmask, And leave me here, implicated, free. And now—between retreat and memory’s claim, I want what cannot stay, cannot exist; Unsure if love erred—or if nearness came To teach me loss by way of what I missed.
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