Regrets in Galilee

A night by a fire, a day in Galilee
and all I found was a haunting
in the middle of your speech
a bridge of echoes…
I borrow the passion of birds for the evening
and trip over my dreams
like a woman wearing another woman’s heels.
I think of the seasons that have offended me
and the lovers I never unmasked…
I let the running water flow on my lap
down my legs into my shoes.
What were you going to say
that night when I started traveling?
When I stopped you mid-sentence?