THE YEARNING
Impish clouds dancing in the sky
The sparkling touch of our fingertips
An unexpected smile
Scent of a rose without rose.
It’s that. It’s not that.
Never is.
I fall back onto
The frozen ground of my heart,
Bruised, fractured.
At times, the light is just dimming,
At other times, the howling crawls in.
Crystalline tears.
THAT
Is always on the far side.
My heart bursting into holy flames
Then icy ashes.
Until.
The aching memory of your tenderness caressing my lips
Eternity chiseled into blue mountain waves
Scent of the invisible rose.
How can I reach what I do not know
Yet remember so well.
Carna Zacharias-Miller
Maggie says
I LOVE your poetry! So evocative!