Swan

 

Paddled under on the 

broken leg of a swan, 

I feel your love deep in my lake.

Hearts entwine and 

flop over with the rising 

and the falling of the tides.

Muds stir and plants roll 

in the murky waters of 

my heart, moving to the 

rhythm of that broken leg.

And when she comes proudly 

from that lake, she stretches her 

wing way back, and in its silent 

brokenness, that wing stares 

at you, with her eyes and shows 

all the wanting and needing behind 

that pride. She is in some 

pain; some pain from just sitting.

Her white is stark 

against the water.

Serenity now turns with 

her in a small tilt of 

the neck. She marks my 

eyes with a new gaze.

She knows she must leave 

and she does.

Into the water, 

our tails raised to 

the skies, we look, 

searching desperately 

for the next thing 

that will become a part 

of us, and then leave again.

9 September 1995