By Jenna Reimer
If you were to not wake
At tomorrow’s dawn,
Where the red branches of a willow
Birth the slow hand of autumn,
I would continue.
If I no longer wish to breath
Your fire, an impalpable ash,
Destroying this deadened brush,
My wind of banners will sail a free isle.
If you decide to leave me along shore
Drenched in sea water, chained in weeds,
My arms would lift; my roots
Set off towards another land.
I would forget you as if all that exists
Exists without you.
You would forget me, little by little,
And I would forgive you.
When you no longer have a voice
I shall go on living;
My years becoming all but roadways
Of forgetting and searching.
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