This ache for you deepens,

turning this body

into a cavern

of desire,

this heart a canyon

of longing.

you are more real
than in any other landscape,
with the sand capturing
every movement, making
honesty a necessity,
preventing any attempts
at hiding from yourself
or anyone else, forcing
you to account for the facts
created by each step,
until the wind erases
the memory of you,
leaving you to create
your own version of truth
about who you have been.

Sitting in stillness,
on a rock, in a river,
I watched trees and
leaves let go of each
other, and wondered
whose decision it was,
if the leaf said, “I
must go,” or the tree
said, “You must go,”
or perhaps they didn’t
have to speak at all,
just knew, from that
deep well of knowing,
that it was time.

And as the leaves floated
through the air, arching
and spinning away
from the trees,
I felt peace sit down
next to me, and whisper
what I had forgotten.