A Dance

My head and chest are pounding.
The pressure is rising, gathering.
Stalwart tears refuse to fall.
Something is wrong.
I think I’m healing.
And I’m scared.

He died four years ago, and now I’m home once again.
I want to slow down.
I feel love, steady and unwavering, from her.
It doesn’t make sense, but it feels right.

The frozen grass crunched beneath my boots this morning.
The sun was rising; the air was cool.
The sunrise guided me to work
pink and blue.

I tried to push you away,
trying to protect what’s inside
something fragile,
something mean and only partially tamed.
Begging for a collar but still biting the hand.
Fur matted with dirt and frost,
longing for the warmth of a companion.

I am spinning, intoxicated by the unknown.
It’s an intimate waltz.
I’m waiting for the lights to come back on,
yet I want to be present for the dance, too.
Why is it so hard to hold your hands
and sway in the moment?

The mountains and rivers are stored in a small chest inside me.
The smell of wet sage after high desert rain.
The crystal blue river compared to the cedar water of home.
The people, the culture, the silence.
The lonely exile that brought us here
to experience life together.