Eighth Movement

We captured each other,

but in the process of caging almost

lost each other.

 

Tell me all that has gone

while we’ve focused on the strength

of our bars.

 

Whisper it softly

like a silent river

and I will float on your current.

 

I find it hard to move on,

a fallen tree between rocks.

                Loosen me with your voice,

                into pieces, into driftwood.

                Go on.                    

 

Do not rock, but ease.

In the roll and rip of your lapping

round the edges with peace.

 

Form  to me by wrapping

and take me along.

Remember, we’re free now.

Go on, tell me all that has gone.

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