I am the face behind the face,
the watcher behind eyes.
I’ll slip this skin
like a bright fish
glistening in the sun,
wriggling free of your hands
back into the deep pool,
a glint of gold and silver
darting through the stream.

That color, that liquid,
the shining skin, that is me
but not all of me;
I am what the river cannot hold.
I swim inside this skin,
but I’ll slip it soon
and take another.

The stars will take me
and warm sand
waiting at the shore.
The deep sea will take me
and trails along the mountain.

Where I go you will not follow,
yet I’ll break from the brush
to see you once more,
a deer with her fawns
crossing the road
thin-legged and lithe,
then like a spirit wind
return to the forest.

 

Mandalla

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

16 Responses

  1. ohhhhhhh……I can easily slip into the skin of this poem Don…….such lovelies you’ve written here……..and, I can easily see this one being put to song……

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