Sunday, October 13, 2013

Never Too Late





The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton






We never know the moments we miss
until it is too late to retrieve them from time's greedy grasp.
This chiaroscuro dance we quietly perform
as we walk by each other, day after day,
steals dreams from the solace of slumber
and leaves me gasping for breath when sunlight wanes. 

My eyes are thick with mist from a wild waterfall of unspoken words,
drenching the thinness of my skin 
with stirring sweetness and subtle spice,
engulfing me and surrounding me with fire that does not burn -
it soothes me beyond reverie,
where you await my tender touch with eagerness eternal.

Where have you been all these long, lonely years?

I searched for you in shadows' shallow faces
and in evening's unfathomable depths,
underneath the murmuring moon,
in those sullen spaces between the stars.

With memories echoing, 
we will join hands, adrift on this tumultuous sea -
we will answer all the questions
and perhaps, question all the answers
until we are submerged within this whirlpool of wonder,
breathing each other's fragrances of fragility and splendor -
but it will only come to pass if we stop and speak softly
with our eyes gazing outward together,
instead of remaining so silent and alone.