Calling me back home

Lazarus, Me

You’re calling back into being, me,
after so many little deaths, huge caverns of little graves;
you’re forcing goodbyes that have festered in their incompletenesses
for far, far too long;
calling me forward you say, “receive my love,”
you, calling me to your embrace, calling me out of the night thick with lonelinesses;
and I am reminded
to return the lightness that you bring,
the heart you bear to me,
thank you.
slipping between bright sheets, me;
sliding in from the other side, you;
us returning now, wondering where we’ve been before,
wondering if there ever was a when or there, invisible and disappearing years in which we were not always
present and together.