Amethyst

I stood in that spot on the beach

a small shore, it’s only a mountain lake

pacing one side to the other

soles imprinted in each step

leaving my trace in wet sand

marking the night, when I stood

still as a dazed deer at dusk

and, searching a gloomy horizon,

pleaded that your truth may become clear

that, even though I am a week late,

when I stare at the sunset tonight

with eyes numb from

an abundance of tears I

find myself unable to shed

I may be transported back in time

and be here on that day

and see for myself,

an unfolding of scenes

behind that heartbreaking photo

I had never signed up to see

that clarity may be my reward

now that I’ve discovered this

background for

a snapshot of time

is this the closest I’ll get to

being in your midst again?

if I close my eyes and

reach out my hands

if I grow still in my legs and

inhale bug-infested waters

would we then be

standing in each other’s shoes

and if I did this only

one week after you

is it, in some metaphysical way —

one which, defies all known laws of time —

is it possible that

when you were here before me,

you felt my presence, too?