Toward the Returning

Below the house,
a rock.

Looking again,
it was a hand.

Five fingers
spread wide.

Above it,
an empty house.

The door
was shut.

Out on the sea
a boat was leaving.

I
watched the boat.

Little by little
it grew smaller.

I lowered my eyes
to the foot of the house.

While the boat
went farther,

the door
did not open.

The rock's hand
stayed
open.

To catch hold

of the boat that would return.