Elsa from Afar

I return to Elsa as the shadow which has never left. I rise from beneath her, I squeeze her, peel her like an orange; the membrane beneath her skin is grey as the days spent waiting, bleak from the smoldering ash of day dreams burning, I touch her and the wind carries us away; glimpses of her childhood flash, enveloping me within their dying glow.

The shore, the sand, the water, the hands- I watch as the thread of our steps is washed away. I fall upon the street as children lay upon a yawning summer- the salt of her breath upon my brow, to my lip, to my chest. My heart spinning, twirling, dancing in the orbit of the cosmic gold.

I imagine the my brother in the home of my fathers hands, ‘Brother,’ I say, ‘I am coming, keep for me a light within the window so I may know you are awake, waiting, father let me shake your calloused hand, mother let me say goodnight, tuck the sheets and close your eyes.’

I hear the song of all the women as they sing from within, their beauty makes the day blush. It is when I return, that I become aware of what I have longed for, curdled within the whirlwind of spinning black nights.