My Sam

- jan-u-wine

He came home tonight,

eyes
salt-stained
and full of shuttered silence.

How like the Master
he seemed to me then,

not like my Sam at all.

Too quiet
and far-away like.

I found him in the garden,
Hands unmoving by his side…

(those hands, which ne'er could
help
but touch the earth,

buried deep in naught but
despair)

eyes searching the sky.

I could see the tight jump
of his heart,

near feel the narrow band
of breath

that fled into the chill of the dark.

And

the question that lies,
like a drawn blade,
between us,

that runs grief and silence
through him,
like
the very waters of a depthless Sea:

Is there aught left him now?

He turns to me,
 at last,

turns
as if I were his last hope,
and holds me to him.

Within the circle of his arms,
the very strength of the earth itself,

within the broad hands upon my back,
the sure knowledge of Spring
culled from Winter's wrack.

'for a little while',
my mind sighs,

for a little while…..
 
we shall hold each other,

and there will be children
and harvests of gold
beneath autumn suns,

and laughter
like light
running through
these once quiet rooms.

The Master would have it thus.

The old Master,
and this,
the new one,

my Sam.