It cuts me, their words
Words of departures
To other lands and other faces while I remain,
restricted, unearthed,
Like nails hammered my feet onto
Earth
The day they depart,
Like ghosts their silhouettes dance
As I hug them to go
like a piece of me vanished
I wave goodbye
I still wave goodbye --they never glance back
I am the waver at the points of departure;
Shaking with the hands, shaking in faith
Of return
Shaking with the tremor of ships and steam
And bursting with jets of water that leak
from the corners of my being
I am no one's wave master
My travelers see me
when the edges turn into dust.
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