Descant, From The Latin: Song Apart

Barbara Jane Carey

 
First Part        
 
I was alone with you and my parents were far away and we were on our own on the planet to take care of ourselves
we wore long underwear and two layers of socks
almost the same age  almost the same height  our shoe size almost the same
I wore your thick socks   I could wear your shoes
our hands, too, the same size and shape
the sleeping bags and quilts smelled like pipe tobacco
we slept in the same bed
you said “I really do love you”   I pretended not to hear
the bed was lumpy
and there were always animals
How it snowed!
Snow so deep that our thighs were wet
pulling each leg out was a chore
trapped in the house for hours
ashes in the fireplace
and then you unwrapped the glaringly unnatural
raw red plastic snowshoes
we went up the mountain
 
woods and deep snow
silence
the sounds and smells of the house became faint and died out
there was no smell except the smell of the cold
 
like magic walking on water and in fact we were walking on water
my cheeks got very pink, everything sparkled
I was breathing hard
when you started to sing
            leaning, leaning
invitation to sing the descant   invitation to be the descant
            safe and secure from all alarm
to start the descent, sun-dazzled, everything glistening.
and together:  leaning, leaning.
On the way down we left footprints but no other mark
our breath in clouds disappeared into the forest
snow fell and the footprints disappeared as if we were never there
a crow flew by, caws echoing, winging shadow, then it was gone
a branch cracked like a dry log sparking
a cardinal welled up on the branch like a drop of blood
icicles shimmered like windows all the way home.
 
 
 
Second Part
 
Deep snow,
silence
I can’t find your house everything has changed and the road is blocked off by the snow
a branch cracks like a pistol shot
the cardinal drops from the branch
light and shadow red stain in the silence
where are you I cry    there is no sound to my voice
you come running    but there is no running here
there is nothing here
only the tinkling of the icicles like wind chimes    there is no wind here
the snow is covering our steps we are sinking the snow keeps falling
in freezing weather the ice on the branch takes the impression of a leaf
I give you what seems to be a glass leaf
in your hand first the veins disappear and then the leaf is gone