If I speak directly to you today,
how much becomes lost within
the possibility of nuance?
Your interpretation flows over my intent:
soft waves slip across sand
push forward, then retreat back
into the sea of yourself,
leaving me with disturbed traces
of your touch.
On what ground
may we walk safely,
without fear
of falling along the way?
Unsure of where we stand,
or even my own footing,
my words stumble,
hesitate to move
the conversation forward
and speak without metaphor
to tangle our possible destinations.
Behind me, through the trees,
I see you
on this mountain path;
I lean toward you,
but am fooled,
by the switchback,
that you are nearer
to my words than you are,
that we speak a language
we can both hear.
(February 2013)

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