to Baidzar

Your voice passes through me
like the flames of candles.
I look for words to call you back,
knowing I am the one
that is still here.

Within me is a stone,
a geography of sadness
that clings to each breath
I see in everything
you’ve touched
an inherent spirit,
life sized and wakened.

How will I learn to understand
the language of clouds?
I anchor messages
to the wings of birds,
and wait for an answer.
I scatter objects,
and wait for your hands
to join them back again.
Too quick was the life between us.

Outside, winter’s face blackens
the cosmos with sleep.
Each day closes
between our shadows,
as if we were in a dream
where your voice echoes
into the sound of a gate opening.

I stand before another kingdom,
separating us for only a moment.