To Another Self                                                 

            I suppose you wished her heart to spill
            Rather than beat
            And for its drenching pool
            To drown the riddled future
            In one endless moment of your choice
            If you could only choose 
            I understand, my poor dear stubborn friend

            How –
            When the last strand of the final thread of 
            Whatever you two were weaving
            With glance, touch or thrill
            To bridge the gulf of breath
            And the dangling wisps fluttered irrevocably apart –
            How only the mountain silences of precipice and cleft, 
            Of unseen trails and heedless creature ways
            And slanting trees
            Could persuade you to a humbler pace

            You are moving now, I see, more nimbly,
            Ridge to ridge, amid the unmourned monuments,
            Forgiving and alert


            Emanuel E. García, Leaf Thoughts, One Hundred Poems2013