Nesting

I should have known
all along that
it wasn’t about him or
you.

It was about winter versus summer,
the way a storm fills the air with terror and
pure electric joy,
and how my heart could not contain

two dreams, two loves, two futures
without a future of my own.

Shadow danced with sunshine
until I hardly knew which was which–
love has a funny way of blurring all the edges

and making psychosis the unconscious hero.

You were me and I was him and we three were one, then two, then none.

Crazed with longing, I
abandoned the border of half-felt dreams
and journeyed to a far country,
red and fair,
until I found my face in the water and the wind.

Then I knew
it wasn’t about him or
you.

It was the cry of one lonely owl hunting for her nest
before being caught by the rising dawn.