Watcher of the Water

- jan-u-wine
The truth is
neither
one of us
can come back.
 
Neither one of us
 
will
 
come back. 
 
Hope.
 
There was
hope,
 
breathing
somewhere
inside this
curtain
of dark,
 
threading
bare light
through our fear.
 
Hope
 
faded...
 
became
nothing
but an empty
word
 
blown upon
ragged wind,
tossed
and broken
upon
the flat
desire
of your eyes.
 
Your eyes.........
 
your face........
 
the starveling
waste
of your body
 
beside mine
 
in the mirror of a stream.
 
 
Tell me,
 
which
of these
 
reflections
 
might I be?
 
 
Oh, yes.
 
I
am the one
who cannot
remember
Home,
 
nor the taste
of food,
 
nor how stars
might seem
as friendly eyes
pressed against
a kindly sky.....
 
nor what it means
when this creature
with hair
like a field beneath the autumn sun
takes my hand
and speaks to me
of  the vast blue
quiet
he calls the Sea.
 
I bow my head.
 
I will not look
into the water.
 
I will
not
see
you there,
 
the mocking
shadow
that,
in so short a time,
I shall become.
 
My hand seeks
the painful
comfort
that draws
me ever nearer
to the ending
dark,
 
ever closer to you.
 
My eyes open
to the clouded
stream
and
the images
that shiver
ghostly
there.
 
One of them
smiles
within
the fractured frame
of water.
 
I touch my mouth.
 
It is not me
whose
teeth gleam
with ragged
intent.....
 
my hand falls away....
 
it is not

me.
 
Somehow,

in this age-long
night,
 
I wish
it were.