If I never
fell at your feet
to cry your name
in a long line.
If I never
resisted these tears
that carry me nowhere,
I might have kept on.
If I never
chose to watch you
wilt like oceans could not
water your barren garden.
If I had always
kept sand from exiting
between fingertips,
like those words of promise
I let stray like dandelion seeds
over infertile deserts.
If I knew
where to find myself,
I might have found your ship
before it sank
into my lap.
If I knew
where to surrender,
I might have remained
as your anchor
dropped from Heaven,
before you fell on winter wings
to an apocalyptic springtime.
If I felt that
you required your time
in a grave, not to be saved,
I might have chosen
not to land that first kiss
that kept your heart beating
in rhythms of eternal love.
Modern Romanticism 