A wooden boat too small to be
so far out from everything.
It is drifting toward the unknown –
up and down repeatedly.

Atop some black and purple sea
that is calm and still and deep.
In the background rests the horizon –
it is red and orange and pink.

He sits alone and starts to think
of the home he had to leave.
Looking back to what is behind him –
to the place he cannot flee.

A wooden boat within a dream
that was meant for you and me.
It moves on toward the horizon –
to a place I cannot see.

Broken boy reduced to think
there is nothing new to dream.
Promises are effigies
set aside to burn.
What is left but memories?
Ash and teeth and bone.

Broken girl refused to see
there is something to redeem.
Promises, effortlessly,
set aside – returned.
What is left after you leave?
Earth and sea and stone.

We counted on our fingers
and buried with our hands.
The line of white still lingers
from the loss of silver bands.

Casting out our demons
and cancelling our plans.
My line of site, your reasons,
and the loss of silver bands.

A home from potter’s earth.
Ironless; formed from dirt.
What we are, not what we were.
What remained after we burned.

A heart within the ground.
Nothing left; buried down.
What was lost cannot be found.
What remains is underground.