Bridge of Inspiration

(A response to “A Love Letter From The Desert To The Ice” by @philoocology)

To the child of ‘cracked earth’ who wrote of blooms just beyond reach,
of love to the ‘daughter of snow’—or the ‘falcon’ who ‘fell for the owl’ in speech,
the words that fell from your longing and woe
flowed in whispers your spirit bestowed
onto pages for all—the innocent of heart,
and wandering spirits of old, torn apart.

I thank you for the rawness you’ve chosen to bare,
the ache of your suffering, brave and rare.

In words you dipped, drenched in diamonds and gold,
you penned your ache as the silence grew cold—
on pages shaped by time and fate,
marking the hours too cruel to wait.

I wait, too, to hear ‘silence crackle from thirst,’
the first show—unrehearsed.
Perhaps then I’ll see, if only a trace,
How your story moves through time and space.

The questions you posed—uncertain, unsaid—
sent me seeking what once lay dead.

Your ‘what if roots remember someone they had never touch’—
I read and re-read, struck by so much,
as time and distance slow-danced in my head,
your echoes weaving what needed to be read.

Perhaps in madness I may join you there,
like one who peers through the glass with a stare—
through the keyhole, the madness he vowed to endure,
for love that’s intangible, tender, and pure.

And I too have wished that shadows might hold,
that the barely-felt touch could somehow be bold.
Like you, I’ve learned not to yearn overmuch,
lest the unattainable crumble at my clutch.

With grace, with ink,
Mai

Italicized phrases within this piece are quoted directly from “A Love Letter From The Desert To The Ice” by @philoocology.

Used with deep respect and in poetic response.