poetry by ben
back to its exposed Root
The arc of the visible river is long
but it bends toward moments
in which a song reaches out
with its silent hands
to grasp the darkness to lead it
back to its exposed root
its first whisper
its fading blindness
into the colder place
Imagining your gaze from the air
I say this is a small thing
remembering your hands moving softly
I say this is nothing
since you cut through the clouds
and then drifted like a leaf
into the colder place
we will meet
When there is space we will meet
our hands between us our eyes swollen
this same water pushing across the earth
this same weight inhabiting our feet
but an air less visible
a breath less burdened
by clinging leaves and stones
unaware of the surface stones
washing through shadows
through the ashes gathering in the corner
the birds searching for breath
but drowning in light
when our eyes have forgotten us
when the shadows have been set free
we will meet
any longer
Because of the eye the hand fell
apart into countless waves
which pushed the fingers of the sun back and forth
along the skin until the skin couldn’t
any longer
contain life or keep out the world
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