‘How I wish I had an ocean to cross’

Saturday, June 10, 2017

194

COMMENTARY

Regeneration
by James Coburn

I always look for the hidden leaf.
The voice in the wilderness,
An unseen tongue.
I am magnetized across continents.
Depths of sea restore me,
Break away loose sand.
Exposing currents carving solid rock.
I am one with the land.
In the end, there is only kindness
And grace.
Such is the beginning.

Window in Paris
by James Coburn

We met at an artist’s party,
Watercolors ran free.
Your soul shared
unseen colors with me.
A thousand candles roamed Les Marias
for a week without end
from beyond our room past the bend.
We looked out a window
where a garden mixed with stone.
You wondered who would tend it
with no one coming home.
I said I’ll write you letters,
see you now and then.
I grabbed my passport just before dawn
crossed an ocean after noon.
Paris behind me in the month of June.
Back home, headlights reached
across old highway.
How I wish I had an ocean to cross
untouched, unscathed
never lost.
No turning back;
life’s deepening in me.
Infractions of starlight
penetrate sea.

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