Copenhagen

here is an image I heard spoken
given to me in story
it has taken hold of my heart

Imagine one of the busiest cities on earth
during rush hour
a horrific accident
stops
everything in its tracks
people gather huddled witnessing
police redirect traffic, bicycles, pedestrians
struggling to maintain composure and the necessary dignity
of
the
moment

here is an image I heard spoken
given to me in story

Think about what it might mean
for dwelling
if regard were as deep and plentiful
as Copenhagen's canals.
Boats of all sorts and speeds share
liquid space and time
Swans mingle like citizens, welcomed
for their grace and beauty,
their delicate sustained stepping and gliding and leaning
their steadfast commitments
unfettered, unhurried
always
in proximity of mate
or young

here is an image
given to me
it has taken hold

A careless driver kills a swan
leaves
its soft lifeless form
white against the too black asphalt
its slender beautiful neck
elegantly posed, breathless
its mate hovers, his head a hair's breadth from her
chest feathers, absolutely still
motionless as death
in reverent, silent loyalty
if swans could weep
the terrible grief
of one who is left standing
those attendant kindred souls
might keen and howl
in shameless agony
or hold vigil in hushed, unrequited sorrow

here is an image I heard spoken
it has taken hold of my heart

then

I tried to offer up this story

too soon
after being locked in
rapt attentiveness
I wept at its re-telling
I could not do justice to its sweetness
or longing
nor can I
now

here is an image I heard spoken
given to me in story
it has taken hold of my heart