-the invisible dead-

I am at the bridge in the dark.
The water runs beneath my feet
and gurgles and burbles against
the bank, and itself.
I cannot see it. I feel it.
I am becoming
it.

The veil is lifted now. The crescent
moon in the sky among the lamplight
of stars cracks a grin in every direction
except maybe the side we never see.
I am alone now, for now, and I reach
with the water for those who have gone.

I feel I have wasted my life by enjoying
the act of sitting still. I know I won't live
as long if I keep this up. I feel I belong
to the void. It calls in the voice
of crisp water and leaves crunching
beneath my feet. I want so many things.

I want more fires in the dark,
in the woods, more circles of voices
and laughter and dancing and
getting drunk under the moon.
Maybe there are horses just behind us
and their breathing keeps the time.

I've left so many families. I carry them
in my saddlebag. I never take them out.
Have you ever rode through the night,
wondering what is real?
Campfire rides on your clothes,
you remember the gone this way.

Did you ever forget how to pray?
Roads diverge in the dark.
The horse knows the way.
I lay awake in waiting
for that instinct to come to me.
Is it a lie to say the dead walk with me?