My wandering heart is a curse
hanging as a chain about my neck,
A brand and a scar
which smolders beneath the skin
and which can have no balm
nor salve
but must sear me in silence
gritting my teeth in pain.
Oh what unspeakable sorrow walks
among my memories,
stirring the flame of rememberence,
that moment in the snow
when our bodies and our souls touched,
The warmth of your chest
and the pressure of your arms
and the eternity of your gaze
like the eternity of the skies above,
lost in the bitterness of restraint.
My longing for you is as a hole in my heart
which no forgetfulness can heal.
Your holiness is running water
to the parched desert of my soul
and I hear your voice in my dreams
like a call to prayer,
The cry of a seagull
who has lost the sea
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