Coming Together In A Heated Rush
The wind howls across the ice flows
It sends the frozen snow skimming.
A hardened river on a river. So it goes.
It is not the same as in the beginning.
Is it flowing North, South, or Westward?
It just glides to the shoreline till it’s free.
Ice above & the water below. It’s end is heard.
As the glacier breaks & falls into the sea .
You come to me on fast forward.
You try to put the bums rush on me.
I am not one to rush toward.
I’m like the glacier headed to the sea.
Like a moth drawn to a flame.
You have no control over your impulses.
We both push and pull to make a claim.
Within this moment that encroaches.
History is relived through your own intent.
You’re drawn to me for that very reason.
We each try to mold the moment.
I know it’s coming in due season.
This is where the whole world keeps on turning.
This is where we come undone—–undone.
It has been brought to this point by yearning.
Which you cannot mix with fun.
Will they measure me by branches.
Count the rings and sift my ashes.
Mark the ground where I fell & carry on.
Or, will we fight against the silence.
Fill our days with noise & violence.
Not recognizing our hearts when we are done.
The moment of heated rush passes by.
We are left to piece it all together.
I find that you’re still you & I am I.
You’re touch is gentle. Like a feather.
No words pass between us.
We’re both lost in our own world.
There is no longer an interest in lust.
I lie on my side with my legs curled.
We soon get up & go about our business.
It’s as if we were someone else.
Video games & sports become your business.
I sit a & wonder how it felt.
I think of the glacier slowly sliding to the sea.
It’s history is there left behind.
An open book for all to see.
Slowly, I finally start to unwind.
I am not frigid nor turned off by love.
I just don’t deal with it in high gear.
It makes me feel like a glove.
Out of place when you are near.
For awhile we came undone—–undone.
Nothing mattered but this moment in time.
But, such emotions shouldn’t be for fun.
Only if I’m yours & you are mine.
Will they measure me by branches.
Count the rings and sift my ashes.
Mark the ground where I fell & carry on.
Or, will we fight against the silence.
Fill our days with noise & violence.
Not recognizing our hearts when we are done.
——————————————————R. W. Johnson—–(2014)