— In Memory of Adrienne Rich
It's been days since silence fell.
Gathering my paper, my pens, my thoughts,
I am still,
adrift on the surface,
the wreckage, with its terrible fame, lies far below.
Vibrant buoys rock on wilder waves now,
sing out through haunted mist,
taunt vague apparitions with their arrogant rhythms,
bold metronomes echoing with time
though we remain bereft of its keeping.
Your pen is far too quiet now,
its thunderous noise deafening
to those who listened - and heard -
its weeping between the raging,
its flowers beneath the barbs.
We were all innocent once, remember?
before the storms stole our faith,
knocked our knees out from under us?
We bartered for an ounce of courage,
begged for our beloved solitude -
just a small, tender space of our own,
where we might learn
to understand the unexplainable,
or at least learn to accept it.
Your white sails flapped soundly in the grip of a mild breeze,
the sun upon your upturned, smiling face;
you seemed satisfied with these simple gestures,
comforted within your starstruck knowing,
while we struggle to swim toward shore,
calling your name to help us navigate this cruel distance...