I pinned my gaze out the window
on a ripe line of sky
that’s where I was going.
Following him through the ocean,
country roads, cities, and mountains
to find him again.
I had lost him once,
because I was not able to follow him through
the ocean, country roads, cities, and mountains.
I wasn’t about to lose him again.
Waking each morning, I find my
angel
is no longer there.
Picking up the phone, not knowing
who to call,
because he was gone.
He had followed me to find me through the deep oceans,
the dirty country roads, the turmoil of cities, and rigid mountains.
Why couldn’t I do the same?
I stand, knowing that
if I did lose him again,
I would be a human, alive, but not.
I would go to work, telephone my friends, go to parties, meet new people, and love all over again, but
I would not be alive. My heart would
die.
To keep it pumping life into me,
I will swim through the oceans, stomp through the country roads,
jog through the cities, and hike every mountain, because their pain
wouldn’t be half as what I feel right now, without him.
He was my north, my south, my east, my west,
my working week and my Sunday rest.
