Someone like you has many names.
Someone like you is loved.
You, you have names that are shouted in joy,
cried out in despair,
or whispered into the ineffable silence of creation.
Someone like you is always remembered.
Someone like you.
Sometimes I call you mother, friend, lover, enemy,
because someone like me never forgets.
And whenever I miss you, I sit by myself
and think of all the names someone so dear could have.
Someone like you is always on the move.
I count your names endlessly on my fingers;
keep them under my tongue
before they disperse into the heavens like seagulls -
Someone like me has many names, I think,
names that have been whispered in love,
recalled in bitterness,
and blessed in sudden passion.
Someone like me has many names, but I am not like you.
Sometimes I think I remember the name I called you -
the name I gave you.
But I keep silent -I’d much rather;
it’s like a secret then -
just you and me, and then I can believe that I am loved.
So I remember, and I sit in silence,
weeping from atop mountains.