It is a small step to remember
how life led to this
How the door to the deeper world
opens, letting the body fall at last,
toward the few griefs it can call its own.
Oh yes, I know. Our wings catch fire
in that downward flight
and we come to earth afraid
we can never fly again.
But then we always knew
heaven would be a desperate place.
Everything you desired coming
in one fearful moment
to greet you.
Your full presence only in rest
and the love that asks nothing.
The rest where you lie down
and are no longer found at all.
It is never enough. The three riders
arrive with gifts. The woman brings food.
The child looks with admiring eyes.
Something else is triggered. He hears
unaccountably the voice of someone he knew.
He pulls back the curtain. No one.
At night he opens his depths
and dreams. He will not appear.
He turns to the old part of himself
known since a boy. Gone.
The door open in the night wind
and on the oak table a note.
"I am to be trusted but you are not".
He remembers everything he can. His face.
His hands. The way he would rise as if to speak.
Oblivion begins to pull on its long shroud.
He has one moment before panic.
His voice ready to pounce on death
unsheathes its secret claws. His hour.
His place. His voice with its new sound.
A bunched animal cornered by stealth.
Then someone gets up, closes the door,
begins to speak.