She Might Go Back

She might go back, if she could, to see

sky still stretching west to east.

Rattlesnakes coiled in the bone-dry creek

No fear

Not yet…


Did her song go ringing high into heaven

Without being heard in the house?

Loneliness normal then—barely perceived.

Not sad.

Not yet…


She couldn’t go back–not in winter

with cold seeping in like frozen grief.

Echoes wailing beyond eternity.

Too cold.

And yet…


She shouldn’t go back—not in summer,

bottle flies biting defenseless limbs,

Barley beards sticking to sweating skin

So hot

But yet…


Shall she go back—risk remembering

Innocence and hope, dreams and visions

longing for joy fierce and terrible?

She can’t.

Too late.


One thought on “She Might Go Back

  1. I still enjoy reading it as much as the first time you sent it to me. I had not realized that you hadn’t “published” it yet. Somehow it reminds me of the song from CAMELOT . . . If ever I would leave you, it would not be in spring time, knowing that in spring time . . . But, you (and I) have already left and we know we can’t return . . . only through memories and thinking of what might have been. You paint a wonderful picture in words.


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