Tuesday, October 5, 2010

The day you lost my name

I was sleek, limbs fresh
and soft as wax
newly emerged
when you first drew me up
in a long embrace
and spoke
my true name in my ear.
You told me I was real,
grew me lean and strong
to run colt-limbed
across the sand, the wind
stroking long ripples
through my hair.
You say you do not know me
now, you say
you’ve lost my name.
Without your hands,
your breath, your hawk’s whisper
I have no name at all.
Rachel Westfall
October 4, 2010


Fireblossom said...

It sure can feel that way. But someone else can only name what they see. You are the sight itself.

lakeviewer said...

"Without your hands,..." Powerful!

Rick said...

I've waited long for you to post again.
it was worth the wait.
mmmm a hawks breath

jozien said...

Hi Rachel! good to see you, with your soft sleek limbs, running through the sand, ripples in your hair. You newly emerged today.

Rob-bear said...

Bear wonders — are we noting without another, or the other?

Rob-bear said...

Bear has problems in the late evening.

"Are we nothing without. . . ."

christopher said...


RachelW said...

Oh thanks all of you! Rick, I've been reading you-- I wish I could comment.