palm on air

How long is a year? Not long, not long 
enough for a prayer and a piece of
fear to vibrate in waves ever so quiet
morning clear sunshines would appear
not to know, except it is there

in the quiet near certainty of things.
Every time now we hold hands it is with
knowledge of distance, impending, coming; 
every single waking a movement towards
the leaving. It is just over there.

And what lies beyond? What lies we
do not know except blind courage
that belief of returning to love.