holding still (a poem)

[thewatch]

I have loved well, but not so deep it seems
It has flowed from me in many streams
The enduring touch flows to the wide sea
But the deepest pools still wait within me

As years pass this ache is stretched and grown
Searching to meet waiting depths in which to flow
As tangible as air they can be discovered
And when released they are not recovered
Their loss like limbs of phantom pain
As we make our blood, so our rivers grow again

Unseeing feeling searches for their counterpart
And the dried river beds have the fossils of a good heart
With their tracks leaving cracked footprints deep
The unknown space in me is waiting for the flood

- by me