She climbed the stairs and counted
not a thousand but much less
yet still enough to take her up
to a vantage point
and she surveyed the landscape
dry-eyed like one unmoved.
In the distance there were mountains
blue, blue, it seemed to her
like love confined immobile
in a cage of self-destruction
and she brought the air in, in, in,
like a plea for love’s release.
She turned then and walked away
to where the grass was green
and where the water tumbled free
hot, hot, like passion, lust,
from within the bowels of earth.
She settled in that stream to be
self-contained and satisfied
that once a plea intoned
she simply had to be
distanced from the mountains blue
dry-eyed as she was then.
And then she went down, down, down,
into the depths of heart and soul
to arise a woman free and clear
from deep emotive love
but there in those watery depths
you’ll find the tears she cried.