Light Heavy

Sand Becoming Glass

It rained for hours
the day we were supposed to come here
they used to tell me
the rain
symbolized a washing away
of the past,
meant the way was clear,
that the waters had cleansed the path before us

but these are old mythologies
and today I let the omens be
just what they are
what was there before remains
the water carrying its color.

its as though the clouds are spewing out
everything I’ve been keeping
in for months,
the sea,
the December fog,
what is more real to you than love
the off hours are far more difficult
than times of necessity,
no choices to be made
an excuse
for sitting together
saying little
to each other

this is the life I wanted

even here,
at the edge of the blue mountains,
the city roars
in the corners of my thoughts
for me to wander from you.