I feel most strongly what I write about least

Last night a warmth crept through the wire
and we, the once-frozen, softened at its ends
melting in this fire
that we did not kindle

My eyes, long held closed by frosted eyelashes
opened just in time to see
the fire folding in, rolling into a piercing
point, and sharp
boring into that great and immovable stone
with a terrible roar!
split by light into shards
And behind it, now revealed...
a cobwebbed door.

I saw us walk through.
I do not know where it will lead.

But dripping images, hazy, in strands
seem to suggest
that we will return to the place where we were born
we will wander lazily back to the place where we were born
walking, we will be unwrapped
layers will fall away
and we will laugh,
laugh long,
laugh
in the face of the one who would forever suspend
that which was meant to dance

We will dance on our graves.

(Now don't be surprised if
I say something to the effect that
to see your beauty surface from the deepest places
up through the shadows of murky, surreal seas
is to me as the delight of a thousand jellyfish)

Here my blessed task will be
to find the shining in you - I will name it
as you will do for me
And as I lay back, basking in new-found freedom
fallen like dew on a mountain,
you will sing the song
the waiting song
the one
that sits curled up in your corners...

And we will both say that yes,
we were worth the fight

---------

Did I mention that it's raining?
You always loved it more than me
But today every drop is redemption
and I'm not nearly as cold.