I do not know
which of us is the intruder.

This is where I have come
to sketch out
something like a life to lead;
to draw the curves and folds and wear them.
Here in this forest,
here between these trees,
I dance to the tune of the wind
and sing dirges to the ravens,
who do not understand my words
but pity their intent.

And he has come,
his movements a ripple in the forest.
He shifts and I shift with him; I call out
but the trees are still,
and he is gone.

Cousin, do not watch me,
silent and pitying as the ravens.
Step into the light,
this light,
golden and unyielding as your eyes.
Touch my hand and tell me,
in simple words that do not break apart,
why youth must pass and day turn into night,
why eagles cannot fly with broken wings,

And how it is that I yet breathe
when one I loved does not.