THEN AND NOW

For ER and MAC

I.

There was a time I was lost in the decay
of what once was a promise of trust.

Life had become like the seasons
as predictable as rainy and dry.

This was where I lived for three years
and half, in a cryptic state of dis-flux.

(The changes within the body-geography
imperceptible as California seasons).

What if I were to shout his name out loud
in a crowded room?

Would the wounds re-open,
so that once again,

I can beat myself enough inside
to resemble the red earth of O'ahu,

laden with sanguine history.
Back then, crimson signified only defeat.

But even in the parallels --
the 38th and 17th, yes, in the border crossing of Tijuana,

even beyond the green belts
separating hills from flatlands,

There is hope.

There is strength in rage and action,
There is beauty in examination and movement,
There is renewal of the soul.

II.

I felt the tug of the moon along my equator last night.

I undulated with the tide as it rose and fell,
swirled among the million bits of earth
as brine splashed over me.
Feverish, I rose higher to meet his spark.

Gently, he descended,
wrapping me in familiar warmth, we
an entanglement of moonbeams and mist.

First I saw him was in the winter.
His iridescent face shining upon my landscape,
freeing the light hidden deep
within the tunnels, where the past is buried,
murmuring myriad memories and promises,

A verdancy of veritude.