On top

I realize it is insignificant
whether I'm standing on a mountain top, or wherever.
I begin to see it's not the view that counts
But what's within - yes, warmth, light, feathery movement -

And I understand in this moment
that standing here I do not need to have reached this place with you
(Certainly it is good to be with you:
the wind soughing would sound different without you
the scent of pine and eucalyptus would not be the same.
But you came your way).
Misconception melted.
I had supposed we ought to travel hand in hand
(lame excuse: that's what they always told me)
thought we were supposed to intertwine. No way.

I'm still not sure about this - it's too new!
Also, we lived so long (anyway I did)
with the old patterns
So, unscrew the stiff head
and choose something new
while carefully retaining whatever helped -
That's hard to do.

Well, here I am after four months in this country
on top of a golden mountain
all grief transmuted into careful memory
neatly arranged for inspection
though unlabelled (too difficult, that one)
or maybe just too close in time.

A toast: to all my wonderful, longsuffering friends
who bore my ambivalence
endured my ambiguities
counselled with their ears
never broke faith.
I could churn out miles of clichés
and they'd all be true

The dumb gods shuffle in their shadowy places
Maybe I’ll not need them anymore
I shall stand here
high up
on the fringed horizon
surveying, contemplating
then I shall move on

I like it very much if you come too
but in your own good time, following your route
we'll meet
many times
we'll be together
in new ways
I hope