Absences

Absences

The door slams shut

and once again I'm driven back

to empty pages.

No rain or street voices,

nobody calling to someone else,

my fingertips touching reality’s face,

my own face streaked with tears

in the mirror at dawn.

Miles away—in time and space,

you offer your adieu and move on.

I stand in the desert where the cacti

bloom. Something strange gathers

in the sand below me.  A mystery

governed by those sacred absences  

that make the spirit soar.

In the desert far beyond the city,

one hears the cadences for which one longs,  

the lyrics of those half-forgotten songs…

some of them poignant, some of them witty.

The words come rushing back like songbirds.