Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...

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I haven’t found my home yet so
I keep looking harder & the more
it eludes me the more it seems
I am nearing it
I feel all sorts gathered near me kind curious loving—the mystery of the night upon me—
haven’t found my home yet so—touch laces with touch—I keep looking harder—the
whizzing brush along my heart of prayers offered for me
protect her, Universe, protect them all, loved ones scattered far, as I’ve been crying &
limping many have touched me
Rebecca points at the bus window:
“Don’t forget these views—grey skies
pulling at you—relieve you can’t
accept at least yet—manless fields
of crop & tilled soil—keep remembering
contour & color—low, distant horizon”
“No doubts. Say yes.”
“Yes.”
She looks at me smiling. “Expect the best.”
I nod. “Three days on the road among notebooks & strangers.”
She says nothing.
“There’s more.”
“No way out but through, Raymond.”
“What to burn down, what to preserve, what to renew.”
“Expect the best.”
She pats my hands. Love kisses in many ways.
“Rebecca, I’ve been waiting this day so long. The sun’s up, the sky is blue. Simple.”
She smiles.
“Five hundred miles left, I don’t know exactly. Fate, truth, answers crawling into my
hands.”
She nods. “She’ll come. Don’t worry.”
I look you complete. “Rebecca, you’ve companioned me this trip. Thank you.”
She giggles. Familiarly. “Always.”
She giggles again, two days later. “Toldja she’d come.”
“She kisses like lips to water.”
“She adores you, Raymond. She’s going to be with you all the time soon. She can’t
abide waiting much longer.”
“I know. So what do I do?”
Rebecca sketches idly, says nothing.
“I wait?”
“Just a little bit. Give her the space she needs. It’s less & less now. She’s nearly
ready.” Reb fixes me still with dark blue eyes. “You know all this.”
“I . . . do”
The Cenacle | 59 | October 2006