for marcell and cameron, who loved each other well for a time

we cannot stay for long, here, on these
sand-swept plains, these restless

prairies where we once emerged; stood
huddled, loved and danced together against 

our tender exile. we may never understand
one another, we whose dust has not yet

settled; whose bodies, still learning, 
tangled nonetheless; making beauty of 

unspoken fears by sweetly groaning our
self-isolation into one another’s eager

mouths when night became merely
lonely. i do not know which is more

painful—confronting these vast land-
scapes where our smallness is revealed

in terror and longing; or perhaps loving
in spite of our insignificance when

the only solace that may be found is in
the eternity of stars we reach for. re-

member when we lay tangled and grasping
in our small room—a universe—that made 

us impossibly possible; where you
and i whispered together conspiring,

articulating dreams out of wind and nothing-
ness and beautiful, foolish passions.

can we forgive one another for not
knowing who we are; offer absolution
while these winds scour us, and drive
us apart into our own divided places where 

our hearts, wounded, wonder at our stumbling
over love? we would easier interrogate the 

sands that drift between us, stubborn
as they are, and we may also be. but this 

earth that we inhabit together for these few
moments… in times of dread and tiring

winter… it will tell us. we will listen to
the howling skies recalling how warm 

love was, whether or not we knew it then. of
course, how could it not have been. it is always 

more than we deserve and never lessened by
who we aren’t yet. so come, beloved, let us 

rest a while until the world sooner ends; until
those days when we will waken, and love 

comes dancing on the plains, and the stars
tumble from our eyes so we can see ourselves.

© 2018, Karekin M Yarian, San Francisco, CA. USA.