A year past, I carved you from dark tree trunks
And a goddess warned me you could come alive.
This tension between love’s reality
And words that are trembling in soft whispers-
It creeps through windows, lays upon us like the dawn.
The shades split bright rays before they reach you,
I know the light will grind your dreams like grain.
In vain I attempt to anticipate
The moment that arrives as you awake-
If you will stretch your arms behind your head,
Or if a waltzing sentence will emerge
(A request for songs, perhaps cold water).
It matters not what is done when exile ends.
My tears flood the Nile’s banks. I will hold you again.
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