Poetry Journal for Wandering Feet

Ode of the Heart

How could I forget eyes like yours, dark but tinged with green? Whole forests remind me of you, where gnarled barks meets moss, where the sky shines light on burls and ferns.

How can I forget skin, brown and lacquered, all beautiful and shiny?
Glistening in the spray of the sea, no freckles, just scars, from fighting.

How can I forget ringlets bristled in the wind? Ebony at the root, umber at the ends, full and bountiful, luscious and course in my hands.

I don't forget, I never have.

I've never known a man like you since leaving our land. I never seen callouses like yours on anyone elses hands.

I haven't forgot your voice in the dusky gloom of silver moonlight. I haven't forgotten the language of our people, once spoken in secret, once taught in the night.

I haven't forgotten shoulders that held the burden of an entire family, I haven't forgotten the hands of a man, that worked from sunrise to sunset.

Nothing held you back, rock, dirt, or sand. I saw you forge amazing things with those rough bare hands.

You built fortresses, you built up the land, what was once barren, was lush again.

I saw you soft and delicate with the lambs, I saw you fight off outsiders, unworthy men.

I havnt forgotten you.

I haven't forgotten the man.

I've looked for your face in every crowd I've been, yet, how often have I averted my eyes, disappointed, no repulsed by my sight.

None of them are you. I can hardly call them men.

I'll never forget the arch of your spine, the sinewy muscles stark in the light.
Ill never forget the arms that held me close at night.

How could I forget the first love of my life?
I never did.

You are part me.

I never will.

We are part of the land.

I never can.