Dear ones,
what is it we are after
on this bridge, in the frozen
solitudes? What simple
act of kindness will bind us
forever? What is it
that might solve us, absolve
us? What radiant
glimmering now gone?
How shall we survive
the tempest that swirls
around our thin boat?
How are we to live
in such a gale
of grief and becoming,
bewildering lostness?
Where is the rock, that stalwart
homecoming we could
cling to? Where
is the break
between the clouds?
Where is anything
constant, wholly
good that doesn’t evaporate
or wind up
forgotten among a pile
of weeds and bills?
We ache with the same ache.
We burn, dimly, with the same
knowing. We are alive
with the same turbulent
blood. Dreams
swim in our eyes. Our hands
reach for the same touch.
by Maxima Kahn, first published in San Diego Poetry Annual
