Friday, May 31, 2013

An Ethereal Purchase

The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton

There is butterfly dust descending everywhere - 
it is tangled in my hair, my ears, 
my eyes, the creases of my mouth 
it covers everything with its glistening shimmer, 
memories of flight resplendent with subtle rapture. 

The heart's cautious creations of memories 
hasten wildly their melancholic ministrations, 
their radiant ridicule of rejection 
responding without knowledge; 
sorrow slides slowly underneath your skin, 
its savagery sustained. 

Time holds no gradual gift of meaning 
when one is grieving, unkempt grace 
shining beneath shadows; 
tenacious within ferocious fog, 
fragile with fingers trembling, trying to grasp the silent air. 

I keep your touch tethered to the darkness 
of my anguished song as these bitter storms rage, 
shivering flesh and bones suddenly, secretly buoyant with bravado. 

The delicate whispers of history 
are almost too beautiful to bear - 
they murmur magma with their forgotten wings, 
wild with their fragile fluttering. 

Without a sound, you stole this silence. 

Your eyes retrieved my dreams from the abyss, 
laughing as they shattered into numerous shards of light, 
kaleidoscopes ascending within the fragrant breath of summers lost.