For a friend
You came into my life
indirectly, the way a river finds
its path after years of cutting a course.
But you’ve stayed there as direct as the truthful force
of the waterfall whose passion knows only gravity’s pull.
Your eyes pierced through my
yearning soul and your tongue
asked the hard questions and
shared your authentic self.
Sometimes I cried
while you held me in your arms.
Sometimes you cried, when you
dared to see again, but differently.
You propped me up with your embrace, your spirit.
You fed my soul through the food we shared.
You voiced the words that could break my heart–open.
We danced among the spirits, and invited them in.
We celebrated thin space and uncovered
what gratefulness is, and could be.
We spoke, intimately, of what we thought
the soul is, and where it goes and when.
We sat, silently, in the comfort of chintzy
pillows, now the supple cracks of new leather,
resting, dreaming of peace.
We sang for the fallen and sang for the strong.
We cried for our journey and the presence
of something greater than all of us.
And now we rise:
Ever nearer, ever taller,
ever more grateful.
