Empty Handed

When you rise in the night,

Feeling isolated,

With no hint of my presence,

And no touch to lift the sediment,

Left over from stretched days,

That blend anxieties,

To craft lonely nights,

Trust that I am stirring,

Awakened by your call,

As it rings out over starred skies,

Across oceans and lands,

It thunders in my ear’s aural heart,

What’s drum beats in cadences,

Falling close, then far apart,

A morse code of sorts,

That speaks in secret script,

In parched desperate lips,

Barely parsed to whisper,

Messages echoed for my ears,

Received in full,

These pleadings, over clouds,

Like love notes on parchment,

Passed in secret,

Silent, but swiftly drifting,

Held in confidence between lovers,

Hidden from view,

Never to be read,

For none could comprehend,

The depth of our words,

For what they’ve gone through,

Earthly sounds that we concede to,

Sterilized meanings that we endure,

To describe the things,

Of our decidedly more,

Than this word settled upon,

Amor.

But I digress,

Drawn to topics,

Less painful,

Diverting my mind from the rainfall,

Of emotions that result from,

My impudence,

This helplessness that shames me,

And enlists my mind in unwinnable battles,

Marching my wits to ends,

Lines that demark and then break,

Enemies made mental that don’t breathe,

But are every bit as bitter,

Toward me,

As they fight with valor,

To remind me,

That in your restless state,

My arms are empty,

Unable to warm you,

And I plead,

With the heavens above,

To send me,

In if not flesh, ethereally,

To your side to calm you,

Gently.