pilgrimage: way and further

July 2012

way and further

way, he is called, and sometimes further
his signs appear in absence
when steps touch rhythms of earlier lives
she stops and waits. were they to meet here?

in faraway towns on quiet squares
his pointing arms just disappeared out of sight
his movements still warm currents in the air
his words still on the table of an evening terrace
when she sits in front of a strange house at night
he is or has been there

his voice resides in books in thin lines under words
the passage that only now makes sense
he was here and he read this line.