Poetry

The Stranger

I don’t know who you are–
I only know the way
your body moves on boulders,
as if weightless
as if limitless
against
the gravity that tugs at your back.
I know the sureness of your footsteps
Your persistence for perfection .
I don’t know you-
no, not really
But I know your eyes,
Your piercing gaze
Drifting, searching intently across
Spaces, electrifying the thin mountain air
And stopping my heart.
I know the contours of your face,
The shade of your skin
That if I wonder long enough
I can almost feel the stories,
the almost invincible runes
Etched by the blaze of sun in your arms.
But all these I know of you
are nothing,
means nothing.
I don’t know who you are-
I don’t even know your name.

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