“I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke lose on the wind” – P. Neruda.

I think of what you’ve left us
Bright greens and pristine waters
Crisp breezes
And clean all around

Nothing but clean
And this cabin on a lake

If you had left us nothing but this
It would have been a world of enough
It would be just right
But you didn’t
Couldn’t
And in trying to give it all
You poisoned it at the roots.

I rode the train home
Up from Fulton Street
Late
One New York City night.
Across from me
Sat a mother and daughter
Dreadlocked
And embracing
Sleeping
And a portrait of love

Their entwined arms encompassing
Inclusive
And me across the car
Hungry
And made safe by their circle

This legacy
This land
This intersection of skin
Your body into mine
The planting of this seed

And the circle
The inherited repetition
Of these days
Reflecting back to me
In a blur.
When, in times to come,
I look for them in memory’s mirror