Monday, December 24, 2012

Legacy







                                                The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton





Dry dust will not claim this marrow
until I am ready to forsake the eternal greening of my heart;
restless moments of rustling leaves will not tame me,
nor will feast or famine sway me from this path.

The sea will surge,
coming ashore with its remnants
of another life to quell quiet moments.

I shall not weep any longer.
The world has depleted too much strength as it is.

Let flowers rise under another's tears,
if they must. Let them curl their blooms
beneath a mournful moon. I shall not care.

I am preoccupied with swirling
under a pale sun. I am ferocious
and wild beneath layers of solicitous laughter.
I am a nascent seed,
discovering the depths of soil as I take root.
I will not return this legacy of harvest.