The ferry edges sternward briefly,
then begins her gentle exit from port,
passing islands so closely,
buildings fill half my window.
I embrace the gentle hum of the ship,
like an infant nestled close into
the heartbeat of its mother.
A soothing calm.
More islands edge by the window
until we turn south into the gulf.
I watch the buildings of Helsinki
grow smaller, smaller, smaller
until they are no longer seen,
just an etch on the surface of my eye.
The forests of Finland linger longer,
but they too fade from sight,
and in my meditative state,
with the purr of the ship, I wonder
if the forests had been there at all,
or merely a dream.
As far as I can see, only water,
a vast grey expanse under a sunless sky.
Dark cloud, dark water,
somewhere out there on the horizon,
inching ever closer, the sky and water
seem to touch.
But they never do touch,
it is not their destiny.
Like the two of us, my love,
separated by the veil of death,
ever so close. I reach out to you,
but for now, our fingers do not touch.