Missing the Boat

MISSING THE BOAT



First in line at the ferry terminal
the only car in the wide gray parking lot.
I write by the windows while you buy
a scone.

We end one journey beginning another.
Like life and death, exciting,
sad and glorious.

My hair is full of eagle feathers,
your arms look like wings.

Our heads are slowly turning
white and the wind
has become something different.

Who knows whose ancestor
travels back to me. Whose message
is typed across a black wing?

Surely the Grandmothers
will of these verses
teach us to read.


for Idaho, with gratitude



c2011 TLStokes (all rights reserved)

Sorrow

Sorrow is the heart, a beast,
a sparrow turned away
from you,

from the face,
of the sun
still warming

the empty cage
in the room of my ribs.
And the river

which ran so freely,
now knows its name,

oh sorrow,

oh dear heart,
dear beast,
dear sun.

Let me never forget,
your warmth,
your face,
your river.

We are an empty cage
here in the room of ribs.

I can't bear to see your face
right now, sun, oh sun.
How I loved you.

And from here
who knows what strange steps
we will take. My anchor pulled,
off I drift

in a boat
warm with sorrow
sparrow face,
a river
unable to carry you.