Fires on a Distant Shore

I know the lies you tell yourself,
that there is too much history,
too much age, too much distance,

that the distance in miles
and the distance we create,
that the scars we cut ourselves

and the scars inflicted by enemies
posing as lovers
have somehow left you unsightly, broken
and unworthy of passion’s bright fire.

And so you move to the distant shore
and watch the flames rage,
unable to believe they can burn that bright
or that long.

About the poem.

I took the picture last night while leaving Presbyterian Hospital in New York City. I did not have my tripod, so it was not a clear picture of the shoreline in New Jersey. Instead, it was something better.

A muse.

Tom