The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton
The jealous moon sighs with resignation,
replete with chagrin as her tears fall from a silvered sky,
reminding her of life's beautiful brevity
and survival's elusive cost.
She is not bitter - only saddened
by the inevitable ebb and flow
of love's elusive tides.
She recalls the early days of creation -
her eyes grow dim and soft with memory.
She reaches out with her slow embrace,
yet, she is no closer than the night
she began her restless wandering
through an infinite canvas of stars.
At times, she weakens with weariness,
considers releasing dreams into vast, waning shadows -
after she rests for but a brief moment,
she resumes her journey, ever aching for discovery.
Belovéd, I must caution you within your depths, your breadths,
for there is a sliver of moon casually gazing through our window;
its pale glow is hardly noticeable, yet hardly complacent.
You are weaving words from starlight and the dark sky sings
your song as though it has become its epiphany -
how lustrous these sounds that ascend into fathoms of darkness,
paving a path for the arrival of dawn.
Belovéd, I must beseech you to touch my wings
as I quickly soar beneath your eyes, lest my flight
become overzealous and fragile within the lace of your fingers,
for it is from the opening of your sweet lips that I hear
this destiny, this harvesting of wind,
this longing to fly.