Saturday, October 03, 2009
How easy it was then,
walking toward the lighthouse
through the shadow of ruptured walls
on sea-washed wooden pillars.
The starless night sprinkled salt
in your hair, and the light
seemed miles away. An empty tower
stood watch over water
that had only moved four hundred feet
in forty years,
but the sweep of beams
dragged it closer. An illusion, of course,
but we rushed forward anyway,
eager to believe. The light
revealed our faces briefly,
and I remember we were laughing
as we slid in and out of the fog.
We didn’t know we were practicing absence.
We were still perfect strangers to loss.