Not Without Motion

You cannot live without motion—
You cannot reach her lips nor plant yourself
In her arms— You cannot speak her name without
Breathing— You cannot whisper to her the
Secret things which would have made up your children
If you could have moved into her— But,
You cannot live without motion, and though
You may have captivated her briefly,
Like a landscape she walked through,
Like a portrait in a museum in South Florida
Where she heard her own echoes and saw them in
You— Eventually, she had to move on,
Because she could see no way to move into you,
Because you could not stand up beside her—
Nor could you open the doorways for her
And hold her hand down the busy streets to protect her—
For her, you were not a living thing
Though for five years she tried to make you move,
To rehabilitate you with a miracle, but it did not come,
So now you stand like an empty window
Watching those busy things outside copulating,
Moving further and further away the more they live
Without you and she is gone like a fever dream,
Ever restless, like rain that slicks the world in falling tears,
Like rivers running back to the sea in his arms,
Moving, living— Though sometimes her memories
Shudder the tremulous branches of your forlorn tree
Rooted at the edge of the lapping currents of the world….
You cannot live without motion—

by Robert Rorabeck

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