The Call of Wild Geese

Some things are worth dying to know.
Like the joyful call of wild geese overhead  
as I entered you,  
      resting in familiar waters of home.  
 
Our tears confirm that we will follow the snowmelt of different mountains,  
but our bodies offer forgiveness  
      in their warming.  
 
I feel the ancient ancestral rivers rising  
and hear your breath’s familiar reply  
as the marrow of all that I am in this moment  
      flows into you.  
Tears rise up in my eyes as I feel myself inside your warmth,  
knowing that death will steal this away.  
 
The calls of geese from the river ring distant and sad in our ears.  
Our eyes meet as we feel the slow releasing of our flesh.  
I’m lost now, suspended above you, moist and warm,  
      looking down at the whole of your beauty through my tears.  
 
You feel the warm drop on your breast  
and reach to grasp what you cannot hold.  
Your lips wrap softly around my salty firmness  
and your hands cup me as if in prayer  
      for grace at tomorrow’s parting.