Alas, you return, my purple flame
mi morado amado,
like sight to the blind.
Like a plum tide pulled to the shore again
by a mighty full moon.
Am I the bee to your lavender?
Or vice versa?
I asked, “Why did you leave?”
You answered, “I never left.”
“But I couldn’t find you. When I reached for you, I felt only a silent, dark night.”
In your trickster lilac way, you replied, “I merely followed the current of the ocean and awaited your presence upon the shoreline.”
Then you added, “Why did you leave yourself?”
I answered in silence. Because we both knew the answer. Because we are one and the same:
‘I’ got caught in my own webs.