The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton
There is little solace to be found
in embracing soil that holds you now, when I cannot -
after sorrow's swift currents
stole your spirit from my aching grasp,
I could only gasp in silence, stunned.
Jagged edges of gaping ground
caused my footsteps to stutter
as I stumbled towards desolation.
You might have heard a wild keening
as it reckoned within my hollowed heart -
my empty palms questioning the gift's return.
Once, you were a shoulder to rest upon,
lightening woe with your lilting laughter's song -
now, I can only lean on dry dust
while insistent winds bellow tragic mythologies.
I can weep no more -
the sea surrendered its salt
upon this barren landscape,
erasing my voice...
Yet, I remember
the golden surge of Summer within your eyes -
a pale and rising moon's slow drift
as wildflowers spilled their colors everywhere,
painting this sultry canvas with glistening rapture.
Grief eases, retreating into forgotten shadows,
letting the vibrant light of love, of life,
cradle this spinning earth with nascent warmth.