This morning I have no poems
No words of wisdom
No metaphor to stretch across your sky
my blood has no rhyme of rhythm to cradle your pu’uwai
This morning
All I have is the magic of a mauna
Caught in the sight of the sun
As we are teased by the treachery of time
This morning
All i have is this wait
Weighing
Minutes stretching across the hardening curve of my spine
All my Words caught in the cracks of my breath
hands curling into their own heat
I have nothing here to hold you with
And you
Still
As constant as the summit
With all your magic
Always Rising beside me
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