He haunts her, this ghost
a gentle apparition of pain
that wafts through her dreams
stirring emotions best undisturbed
in waking hours.
She didn't want to believe
what the mystic told her in Arabic
about the one she could never forget,
who would keep her heart engaged
and her emotions detached.
Four men, he said
would remain constant friends.
But that true mirror of her soul?
The opportunity was lost
in this lifetime.
She could not imagine
that all these years later
his words would ring true.
And there was nothing to be done
about continental divide.
But when two strangers met
on the Ides of March on an island,
they recognised each other instantly.
Even as love blazed a trail,
Their journey once written in the stars
soaring above the moon's shadow;
then the map vanished and
their path was abandoned.
From exile, desolate hearts remember.
Taos Pueblo photograph by Howard Ranier, courtesy of the Blue Rain Gallery, Taos, New Mexico. Poem written for Poetry Thursday.