Partial Recognition

The year this week was broken in half
over the knee of Tuesday
we struggled to parse
each other,
the part and the whole
unfamiliar to ourselves in a black mirror,
children without recognition.

Who are you? and who
do you say I am?
The echo, in the void,
says nothing.
In our cities and fields,
we avert our eyes from each other,
shielded by ironclad words.

Come to the edge!
Come out on the water, even sinking as we go.
It is you who are the elect
chosen for me to love –
freedom found in our binding to others,
fought for and against,
together.

An intimate dawn waits at the edge of the world
hovering,
swords in the bones of
split selves to be shelved.