Author: Elizabeth Maynard

The light dances here
over brick and cobble
bougainvillea's spiny fingers cling
she reaches skyward
to wash morning in crimson flame

I saw a man kick a dog
winced and recoiled into myself
even a cur does not deserve
a blow like that
but it tells me how low
this man must feel to
press another into dust like that

This air leaves my lungs
colder than I first inhaled
your loved chilled too deep

Put an ocean between
yourself and this heartache
here at the end of the world
you have no choice
but to see each thing
for its insignificance
know the smallness
of your own life
the vastness of a sea
as it swallows you whole

Tonight it is enough for me
to imagine you there
on the other side of the world
I lean into darkness
night brightened by the small lights
of imagination and longing
the life we could find together
if we could be timeless

It doesn't matter:
Today the cake didn't rise
but your spirit soared

This is the house
where your grandmother lived
and her mother, and her mother
doors carved from the trees
that once shaded every wish
cooled every heartbreak
each leaf a reminder of 
the verdant possible

Who am I here
at the edge of the world?
Sun rise and bird song
set in every shade of longing
I could plunge into ocean
endless
drift directionless
remember how I once felt
beauty and light

What would it be to live here
forever dust and puttering engines?
Each street lined with stalls
packs of humans and hungry dogs
attending always to the now
without expectation of a future

Every day's a gift, he said
leading kids and a dog home
from an evening stroll
Said it like something
more than a platitude
a truth hard-won
from suffering
but invisible to the naked eye