You packed for me a token of misunderstanding –
a monument for the time lost,
a symbol of the edges of a canyon,
a metaphor for violent waters
cutting a drift through sand and sink
The sigh of resignation
and the unrest of guilt
mounts up like the expanse of a landfill
Muddy tracks lay rested,
a campsite lies at the ready,
the air is crisp yet stagnant,
ominous hands swinging branches
All movement is manipulated,
calculating the plot of a course
Dry winds extinguish a spark of forward motion,
putting it into its place
A continuum of unions fully formed
in a nexus of understanding, or a pattern
Gestures of seamless layers –
paths marked with unbroken bonds
To set out in isolation
to wash hands in which to welcome,
is the resolve to reveal the space
that is enclosed within a spiral
MM 7/15
