Friday, December 27, 2013

Upon Receiving the News



The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton







I wear these fragile fragrances,
remember the sultry scents of flowers you gave me
burrowed deep within my bones,
beauty shuddering mid-stride with haunting tenderness,
slow sighs drifting in a moonless night.

They reveal roots searching underneath
this vulnerable parchment,
salving wounds I had forgotten
or did not know were there.

You scattered soulful seeds behind the garden gate,
extending its horizon beyond the edge of vision;
you yearned for patient blooms to open
within my shadowed eyes. 

Quietly, we recall your presence among us,
a subtle whisper of your voice drifting
through the shuttered window -
how deep is this silence that haunts us now,
in your absence. 

We wait for words that cannot be spoken,
plead for music we shall never hear again.

The lamp slowly dims,
anticipating sunlight we will not feel.