The Story of Joline

Mountains cast their shadows across my face
as the distant river fills the canyon
heading toward the sea.

The path these feet follow,
paved years before by faces
I do not know, yet I feel
their presence and hear voices
scattered to the ancient wind.

If I peeled away the layers
of each universe
would I ever find you buried
within the stardust?

adventure cold conifers evening
Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

 

We walk across ths snowy fields
a chance meeting yet we always
knew this day would arrive.

I do not know your face
from dreams of a spirit
walking between tall trees,
always obscured and hidden.

But with the song playing out
here between each snowflake.
I know it is you.

“Which way home?”

She asked in child’s voice.

“This way, into the sun.”

I replied, pointing up the slope at the muted

late winter sun at the path’s end.

“We all come from the sun.”

This is not working.
Playing the other role,
hoping for something benign,
I asked what this was.

You threw your cigarette.

Landing with orange ash slowly rising
into the early autumn air,
as you dropped from the cement
wall and walked away forever.

In the fractured sleep of night’s immersed
in dreams based in nothing familiar or known,
one word repeated over and over – direct.

I watched power-less as background images
of tall buildings, lattice, and cross-stitched patterns
rotated and approached my view with ever increasing velocity.

At the end (or beginning) of a tunnel
bathed in wavering light with no sound
a shadow slowly approached.

The sides of the tunnel began to
move and rotate, grey lines
and intricate patterns covered everything.

and I briefly lost sight of the shadow
until something pushed me through
and I landed on the empty fields

near the forest where we first
met in ancient times and you
silently spoke directly to me.

With an apathetic look in tired eyes
he turned away from the edge,
hundreds of feet above the turbulent
waters, and walked toward the forest,

across the empty road absent
of any traffic since the morning,
into the cultivated fields, curiously empty,
and sat next to the stone marker and finally wept.

I see you in fragmented dreams
images from a life I have not lived

unfocused faces and voices
mouthing words I cannot hear.

I see images on billboards
and movie vignettes where

touching moments break through
the wall 20-years old.

I see you in rare dreams
sourced from beyond this life,

beyond the choice I made
and the weight I have carried.

If you are out there behind
the trees the shadow

following me through the
forest as the sun sets

please let me know,
please let me know.