(a memory of two friends, recently passed)
We three were sitting late one night
on a lava rock wall
on a lava rock island
looking across the dark salt sami
of Pago Bay -
many miles,
many journeys,
many days
from where we each abide
in star light and shadow now.
On that night when we were young
on Samoan island
in South Pacific expanse
a full moon broke over Rainmaker
and spread at our feet
a glistening carpet,
a path of stars,
a shimmering, leaping,
shivering bridge
across the water and the night.
Together we held our breath
as the moment and the moonlight
spread silence and songs
in our heads,
the only responses
our young hearts could express,
startled by the time and chance,
the volcanic ages, the tectonic surges,
the relentless relation of tides and phases,
the human daring of wander and desire
that brought us three to that moment
of miracle existence.
Each trembling spark of light
on the water that night
might’ve been each one
of our steps to come
on jet plane, sixty Chevy,
Greyhound Bus, Amtrak rail,
and misplaced US mail
racing into separation’s shadow.
To snowfall outside Seattle,
to soldier nightmares in LA,
to raucous bars in Virginia,
to barbecue and diner kitchens,
to drunken drive-ins at freeways end,
to dark journeys through darker bedrooms,
to sweating skin and nasty lies
till we all escaped and met again
under Nuevo Mexico skies.
But on that night, in that cold fire
by oceanside and lunar light
you each knit your fingers
in your lover’s hand,
and then reached to my hand too,
unspoken wisdom in our young touch
holding us three together
so we could skim step by step,
and breath by breath,
across the full moon’s shining path
of water and fire.
And in my heart and memory
there we’ll always be,
hand in hand in hand,
current coursing through,
connection weaving full,
three into one with
Rainmaker, moon,
star fire, sami,
and journeys to come,
and journeys done.
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