Blue Hill Woman

She came into my life so quietly offering a helping hand. I took it in the reluctant way I receive all gifts three months later I could not bear to let go She was a candle in my darkest night bringing light and warmth to relieve my cold and blindness On a damp September afternoon we stood together, contemplating the splendor of green mountains. A snapshot of the moment is on a wall in a distant room for her to gaze at every day; a snapshot of the moment is in my heart, for me to cherish through all my days That helping hand (though she would deny it) healed hurts and wounds and sculped what was broken into something strong and new; her soothing voice told me, even as I denied it. that the wounded bird that I had been would rise and soar Our summer of glory has turned to fall, like all beautiful things are destined to turn but that helping hand continues to heal We sit in our quiet rooms several hundred miles apart, exchanging love and poetry transmitted through the endless wires of technology And on a recent autumn evening I held her briefly, perhaps for one last time but through the miles and wires between us that final embrace still lingers; I cannot bear to let her go. Written November 20th, 2001 © on Nov 20 2001 04:20 AM PST   0 • 8