the grand canyon

two days, seventeen years
and the benefit of all doubt
separate us.
years of judgments
line the chasm of this divide.
tiny peaks of indecision
give depth to the ground below
a canyon carved by the river of sorrows-
seeds of past regrets have become
the mighty trees whose roots bind
our lamentable shores together
it seems to me now that
we have always been at odds with fate's fury
we have weathered fifty-two seasons
and thousands of horizons, alone.
your life to the left
mine to the right
and in all these years
no bridge has been built between us
it is just as well,
greener grasses never spring from
the dark shadows of memory