Leaving (2002)

Based on a simple statment made in a rural Russian restaurant.

Here I am

There I was

Now I am not

I went, I left

I returned

Looking forward

Now looking back

 

It was good

It was right

What I heard

What I saw

What I understood.

 

Then, a chilling whisper, “I will leave now”

Without saying why

Without looking back

Knowing what must be

Puzzled was I

Knowing not why

Looking forward did I  (why thought I, I have traveled long and far for a fleeting glance)

 

Balashov cannot leave me, I thought

Like a gentle breeze

A stolen kiss

Always on the curl of a smile

The haunt of a beckoning call

 

And, there again the whisper, “I will leave now.”

But, Balashov could not leave

Now forever a part of me

A being of its own design

Never to be a faded memory

 

Balashov beckons

I cannot leave now

For a wish to grant

Things to do, ‘til done

A smile to see

Laughter to hear

A toast to make

To the warm embrace of Balashov, so dear.

 

With a long sigh

A whisper floated

“I will leave now”

Not looking back

 

Miles and miles I traveled

Knowing I must

Looking forward to Balashov

 

Would I, Should I, Could I

A whisper drifted by

“I will leave now

Author's Note

Rough draft.