The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton
Time carves its solemn memories
into stone softened by currents of mourning.
Moments etch their passing upon the rough-edged pillars,
insisting on their rightful place within the sacred cycles
of weeping water and borrowed sunlight.
The Anasazi came and went without leaving any clues
beyond their abstract disappearance -
only the silent cliffs remain as a witness
to mark their existence among us.
We are all only dust gathered into wild, swirling bouquets,
until the wind returns to carry us aloft.
into stone softened by currents of mourning.
Moments etch their passing upon the rough-edged pillars,
insisting on their rightful place within the sacred cycles
of weeping water and borrowed sunlight.
The Anasazi came and went without leaving any clues
beyond their abstract disappearance -
only the silent cliffs remain as a witness
to mark their existence among us.
We are all only dust gathered into wild, swirling bouquets,
until the wind returns to carry us aloft.
You peel thin strips of bark from my quivering branches,
listening intently to the rustle of my song -
you leave me bare to your seeking gaze
as you lean against my trunk
to steal the sweet succor of my breath -
no, not to steal,
only to accept what I must offer,
come Spring.
come Spring.
No comments:
Post a Comment