On the riverbank
She stands there, motionless on the shore.
The world around her barely moves,
only the light fading gently,
the golden, peaceful light of the end of the day.
On the lake, a sailboat drifts away.
It glides effortlessly, silently,
already far away, already elsewhere for a long time.
She is the only one watching.
The only one to see this departure that has already taken place,
while everything, perhaps within her,
still continues to believe in closeness.
He does not turn back.
He heads in another direction,
as if the bond had already been broken long before the gesture.
And that is where the disconnect arises, between what is
and what we continue to refuse to see.
Denial floats gently,
like mist over calm water.
Yet the light is beautiful.
It envelops the scene without judging it,
as if even the separation
could be permeated by a form of peace.
On the shore, there is no cry.
Only a gaze that understands too late,
or perhaps just in time.
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