Every night is an ending

It felt like an island
Welcome after the storm at sea
First thing I thrust my shovel into the blessed soil
And planted a tree in thanks

So long ago now I left my storms
And over times my storms left me
Ebbing from my island home
And the tree I planted there

Her trunk is thick now
And the storms barely a memory
Every spring flowers crown her
But I've still never tasted fruit

***

In movies the waterfall is a line on the horizon and a roar of mist. We move towards it and friends pour over the edge, lost from view. The only way they can go is down, and that must be my path too. It's too late to ask them if, for a moment, the fall felt like flying.

***

His voice was a key
My heart was a lock
Even over cheap speakers
I could almost feel warmth
The first I could remember
A low thrum that almost felt
Like love.

He's still alive
And so am I
No forwarding addresses
Both with lines on our faces
And older eyes.

***

I used to say he came through my heart
Like a stone through a plate glass window

He picked up worms off the sidewalk and moved them to the grass
Believing we could all participate in salvation.

He turned my heart into a ground-glass whirlwind
Into a machine made for loving everything

By the end I believed in the kindness that healed
And he no longer did.

(no subject)

As far as I'm concerned there are only two Pablo Neruda poems and tonight is the night for both of them.