Thinking of a Friend at Night
after Hermann Hesse

In this evil year
everything comes early.

Snow and ice cut us off
from civilization for weeks.
We chipped at the heart
trying to keep from slipping,
trying to find any warmth
to keep the pipes from breaking—
bursting open under the pressure
of expanding liquid
like love first noticed
against the sadness of alone.

I think of you tonight
on the Eve of Spring
and wonder where you are sleeping
with your hands tangled
in the lovely cover
of a marriage bed
or in a cot
in some dimly lit
hospital corridor
waiting for the signs
of morning.

Or perhaps you are like the sleeping bear
in the shadows of winter and caves,
damp from your own breath,
you sleep long and steady,
conserving your stores
for better times
and sun.

Then again, maybe you are already silent
as the last cold day
when we walked shoulder to shoulder.
Maybe then I should have told you of my unconditional love
and kissed you on the mouth-- looking at you so wide awake
both eyes locked on that truth between us.

But this clock ticks loudly
and the lines on my face
grow weary of the journey
toward another death.
After all, I know nothing of your will
or the smooth skin of your belly pressed
against the soft comfort
of my middle.

A single smile or word from you
would chase away this fear of heart war
and the flame of human kindness
will surely erupt into a raging wind
of the lightness of just being alive.

Maybe some day you will come back to me,
take a walk with me some evening,
and somebody will talk about the wise ones,
or the ocean, or small stones stacked
balancing themselves on their own gravity
and the grace of attachment to the elements.

No one will speak a word of his worry,
and will only stir with tenderness
under the stars in an open field
where holding the body of the other
will frighten away the worry,
the war of words, the uneasy dreaming
of the summer lightning of absolute souls
flashing on the horizon.

On a night such as this
the sorrow of the past
would not dare to come back--
not even for a moment’s rest.