Mine

I worked all morning to find you. I devoted the sunrise to climbing up, hidden in the woods, until the forest opened into a meadow littered with fall leaves. From there, the trail rose steeply to the alpine above speckled with snow. Up and up I went, and finally I was high on the ridge, following a network of goat and human trails, exactly the place I spend my time dreaming of when I’m not there. I looked ahead, to the east, and I was lost in the lakes, and the shapes that your body makes.

My eyes lingered on the pools of water in the valleys below, and I glanced back, westward, to see what I had left behind. There was the meadow, the forest leading back down to the channel, and mountains across the water traversing north. I closed my eyes and listened, and the mountains said I will find you here, they whispered the snow and the leaves in my ear.

I moved forward, and I traced my finger along your trails, your body was the map, I was lost in it. I could stay with you here forever, falling over your rocky spine, the glaciers made you and now you’re mine. I could stay with you here forever, but they told me to be careful up there, where the wind rages through your hair. 

Reluctantly, I pulled myself away and forced myself not to listen to the mountains, and to heed their warnings. I descended through the meadow, my heart breaking a little as it always does, and I wandered back down through the trees, finally reaching the channel. I knew better than to look back, but I needed one more moment with you. 

*inspired by Rocky Spine, Great Lake Swimmers*