On the Green Moss

Those first days, I sat there
on the edge, on the green moss
I sat there wondering,
how it came to pass?

longs days of
no judgment, no condemning-of
(a back-then I’d never known.)

I sat as the waters rose, and
while I gasped, I sat
waiting. You had

grasped those timeless whispers–
judgments, and looked
away without asking

(What I knew)

that there was nothing larger
than what I saw in you, those words
delivered on a polished plate
you with the terrible truths

(I’d my own measure of it)

of moments that I knew your dance
when that held you closely with,
for my own (and though not mine
and though it laughed at me)

I sit here on the edge
on the green moss
I sit here slowly singing yours
on the green moss.

and if amphibians had tear ducts
this pond would overflow.

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