I throw a line into the dark,
the only bait hunger
and a sense of what waits
in the last hours of night.

There are tugs on the line,
then a bite, a face
from the dreamtime,
something to satisfy
my soul’s craving.

I pull you in,
remembering how
we fought and danced
in the time we were given.

I passed you in a doorway,
glad to be unrecognized,
felt you behind me
in a crowded room,
but this dark morning
there’s no escape.

I look and hold
your pulsing body,
and let there be
this knowing between us
before releasing you
back to the eternal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11 Responses

  1. Hi Don,
    I am just coming home from a Christmas party, hosted by a couple who live on the mountain where I live. What stands out to me as I convey to you what my experience was in the midst of friends is the quality of giving and love that I felt being in their company. Each one is charismatic in their world, and we get to share that quality of spirit with each other.
    What beautiful moments for me to hear their life stories. Don, I love this connection with you and the many more who share this site. Happy Holidays. Ed

  2. I’ve read this numerous times now and feel that I’ve somehow woven myself into the poem, no longer standing on the outside of it…

  3. Great poem! Fulfillment, ecstasy even, awaits on the end of a line that is prepared, stretched taut in the river of sacred dark. Thanks Don.

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