Eclipse

Twenty-five years ago I fell into a deep well,

landed on the eiderdown, 

bounced up and landed 

on the ground and bounced again.

I floated into love, 

    covered in a coat of golden feathers,

       scented with you, like the green grass that bursts from the earth 

        after the spring rain.

As time and love passed away,

        most feathers molted and fell like ash. 

            I still hoist your colors, I still carry banners in your memory,

Though your sweat and sound have faded,

       the snow still melts, 

the crawfish scuttle from the rocks.

The blades of green return. 

Each year they hold me in a love 

where once I held you.

This is the love I walk in. 

This is a love I move in, 

a love that touches currents, a sound to tightrope.

This is a love that cracks the crust of earths,

that dwarfs the galaxies, and swallows 

the universe, whole.

This is a gravity I cannot escape, 

nor would I wish to,

for though the scent, the sound, the feel of your breath is gone,

I still walk in the cool night air we ran together through, in childish delight.

I know now, once, I was loved, 

when so many are not,

and that is enough.

—Emily Romano