The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton
Thin strips of bark curl from my quivering branches;
listen intently to the rustle of my aching leaves,
bared to your searching gaze as you lean against my trunk,
only to accept what I must offer, come a brand new Spring.
Do not weep for sorrow,
for I have seen light filtering through forests so deep
while seemingly lost in a bitter whirlwind;
I thought I'd never again find the path of truth.
Do not grieve this absence of joy -
let a subtle touch be enough to dry your eyes,
knowing there will be more yet to come.
Do not mourn these moments,
for they are life breathing through your mouth,
whispering upon your skin -
smell its delectable scents;
know the moving presence of smoke and currents
finding balance as miracles arrive, unadorned.
Jagged moons will reflect a more gentle light
filtered through crooked limbs, arched against a darkling sky.
There is so much more than I can ever tell you -
no matter how many languages are created,
there will never be enough to describe
the depths of my love for this trembling world
from which we arise, weary with care -
yet, we remain undeterred by falling stars,
ripe with song.