St. Somewhere

St. Somewhere
(Inspired by Poet Amy Gerstler, Poem for Bernard)

Down here in the basement…

A thousand times
I have glimpsed your face,
but there is not a single word
listed in Webster
that defines you.

What I have feared the 
most…well, it has never been you.
Rather, I feared the ones who believe
to have known you
—who set limits, raise bars, pass rules
AND when they look themselves in the
mirror
—they fail to SEE the hatred
of themselves they so eloquently
point out in others.

I have found you
when I lost you…St. Somewhere
—on the way into an uncharted forest
I never wished to leave.

I stumbled back.
I restrained my lips,
but the words, like a leak in a faucet
dripped, and dripped and dripped.

I’ve been standing in heaven.
I’m actually swimming.
The water’s risen—
it is here you have birthed me.

Your face splashes my pupils
and, I see another image,
and another, and another.

You are gone.
I come up for air.

My breath—a prayer.

A feather floats closely
until it caresses my cheek.

I do not touch it or remove it.
You leave me with
wings to fly.

We’ll meet at another shore
—in time, St. Somewhere.

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