Poetry

Hopes and Fears

By PATRICIA LOWDEN | Published: May 12, 2010

I hope when I get home you can tell me what I might be to you-

Two cents or a bright light, night curves or an hour that is now gone

I hope when I get home I can find my rhythm and ride down into the sun courageously

a bag on my back, a temple in my eye, ash in my pocket, and all my tears taken up by the sea so I can roam free or free enough to decipher the light letting me back in

I hope when I go you'll come with me

I hope when I go I can leave you behind

I'll sip your coffee in the late light of afternoon

I'll climb clouds beyond gunpoint and leave you at the foot

of your past life

I'll let the stars tumble down into me if you promise there will be someone there to put the fire out when its not fun anymore

I'll build you a temple and take myself apart within it

I hope I'll be alone on a long dusty road that might lead to water

But I hope the moon is there the whole time

and the road is defined only by the direction I walk in

I'll have on your boots, your blue jeans, your pale, perfect body. I'll have your youth and your deaths, and all your imperfections. I'll have this book and that fury, those fists you gave me a long long time ago. I'll have my wits about me. I have your map where you marked those deep blue pools and I have you a stone's throw away. I have to say-thanks for that. For making me stronger, stand taller, able to love...

But left to my own devices I'm standing at the door. I’m not sure how to get myself through the darkness first.

I hope you know its all your fault.

I hope we can forgive each other for that.