Where My Feet Find No Purchase

I call across the abyss.

You do not hear

as you scurry

hither and yon,

wiping kitchen counters,

grasping at hope,

cleaning toilets,

pursuing vague intuition,

the endless pursuit

of internet healing.

If I build a bridge,

I will need your help.

A suspension bridge

that will sway as we yearn

our bodiesto press

flesh to flesh.

Where are you now,

weeping in the night?

I reach out.

There is no bridge

above the raging waters

of concern, the boiling

lesions that consume.

I have no tears

to stir cement,

only dry fire to

forge steel,

a limited amount

of chi to set

girders, raise

pylons.  Do you

know we need a

a bridge to the

beyond?   I go there

often, visiting

the unseen.

The bridge across

our bed grows

wider.

You disappear

beneath down

comforters.

I feel no comfort,

just a jawbone

rigid as an abutment.

In the muddle of mind

I tiptoe, suspended

between the desire

and the reality, a suspension

that holds nothing.

Strings of a silent harp.

I walk toward

your sighs, my hands

open should you

tolerate touch.

I will fly over the chasm,

touch you when you are ready.

Wherever you go, go safely,

go with guidance

from your Oversoul,

go with the axis

of my love, symmetry

of lifetimes.  When rivers

overflow with tears,

you will sail above the bridge

in moonlight.

I will be there.

~C.J. Prince

`2015