Dark woman,
wise woman,
dreaming mugwump soul,
you are gone
and ever lost to me.

You cannot speak
but only reach for me,
your dreaming mugwump child --
your face filled with shadows,
your hands filled with tears.
I reach for you, too.

I cannot see, but only feel
the parts of you I long for most:
Your straight strong back
and cloud-dark skin,
your mossy curls and
wild forest-song
lie always just beyond
that shining veil of memory,
that bright portal of fate.

River-woman,
fire-starter,
you knock at my heart's door,
desiring entrance.
Though I may weep and
curse the lock,
I cannot find the key.