THE MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON

Clayoquot Sound - August 26, 2000

We leave the bay,

I, looking back,

at the green, green

living island

that I love:

rounded hills

humped under wisps of cloud,

looking like misty Mountains of the Moon;

jellyfish bubbling eerily

among raindrops in the bay,

eagle hunch-shouldered in the rain,

the wake behind the boat

marking the distance

I am forced to travel

again and

yet again

away from the place

where I most belong,

my eyes loving each tree, each hill,

each bird along the way,

my heart singing its

farewell-till-next-time song.

This is the landscape of my soul,

where my spirit

is at home,

where I no longer live.

In my life,

what I most want

to for forever keep,

the Universe

always asks me

one thing:

give.

On the other side of the island,

my lover lives.

With him my heart resides,

my body

constantly journeying

back and forth

for time spent

by his side.

There and away,

there and away,

I go,

taking with me

every golden moment

for I know

it has to

last me

till another day. I gave my heart.

This is the price

I pay.

I live

somewhere

in the middle,

in between.

Alone, and missing both,

I store

all that there has been,

carefully

as nuts for a winter squirrel,

to bring out

when the visits

grow fewer and far between:

a rounded hump of mountain,

his head on the pillow,

his tender smile,

misty cloud on old-growth,

the way we watch the stars a while,

an eagle soaring skywards

in full and joyous flight,

and the way

his tender hand finds mine

within the dark of night.

It seems I am always

driving away

from something I love,

always in a state of longing,

loving

loving

with all my heart

but not belonging.

Why does life require

so much more from me?

Yet I remember

how my soul needs to think.

I am always driving towards

something I love

as well:

that glorious sweep of waves

rushing to shore,

the way my car speeds up

as it heads his way,

the way my heart lifts

at the sight of what once was home

before,

or his face,

lit up in welcome,

that dear face

I spent my whole life

looking for.

My heart waited a lonely lifetime

for happiness to begin;

for my two loves

to find the waiting chambers

of my heart

and move right in.

Now, rich in love,

it has much

with which to fill

those empty rooms:

my ocean-spirit place,

my dear one's face -

my heart,

making its evolutionary journey

via Coombs.