THE HEART MUST WAIT

Who has not dreamed

of one day waking

to find the lost one at the gate

with smiling eyes

to ease heart’s aching

and turn about the blow of fate

 

Who has not known

the pain of yearning

through daylong hours and night’s

slow pace

 

To hear the sound

of glad returning

to feel once more the fond embrace

 

Who has not sighed

as dawn came stealing

to shatter sleep and dreams erase

(that breaking light

such truth revealing:

not now to see the longed-for face)

 

With hope withdrawn but not forsaking

the heart must wait the promised graces:

Another Time, Another Place

#Mourning

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A CONVERSATION WITH GERTRUDE STEIN

“It is always Tuesday!”

Thus she asserted it.

Quickly I countered,

quite slyly, I thought,

sure of my fact and logic,

“But is there not Monday?”

“Of course, ninny, just one day before,”

and she smiled triumphantly,

“Tuesday!”

 

I called on Wednesday

even sweetening it a bit to please her,

“Mercredi? Miercoles?”

“Ah,” she said, “one day after.”

Again she smiled

with a touch of pity, I think, at my ploy,

“Tuesday!” she said.

I reasoned and lost.

Thursdays were useless

even I knew that.

Friday, Saturday, Sunday

each fell in its turn

until at last, I, too,

crumbled, conquered,

for in a strange way I came to see

that for it to be so was good,

and, maybe, even right.

 

#GertrudeStein #GertrudeSteinandWritingStyle

 

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Of Time’s Witchery

While we schemed

Our falling-star dreams

Our firefly summer vanished.

Our childhood wishes

Like pixie men

Whose sylvan homes

Ring with elfin cries

Enchant us still

In memory—

Now forever

Just out of reach

Like ghostly butterflies.

#Aging #MemoriesofYouth #Childhood

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REVERIE AT TWILIGHT

There is a stirring in my soul tonight

the bright

sun that glorified the day with gold

is gone. Now hangs a blueness on the air

a rare

and melancholic drift my thoughts enfold

 

I cannot resist (my heart unsure)

the lure

of time-marked memories of days long past

when everything was possible, if dreamed

It seemed

the stars were mine to reach

my world was vast

 

Gone may be the days of gold desire

the fire

of youth, but twilight is a velvet clime

If stars have spurned

my too-short reach perhaps

mayhaps

I’ll find new joys

in this soft blue twilight time

#Aging #Melancholic

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HANDS OF THE OLD

Caught in a dream

they clutch at the light

beyond the edges of dark

 

They search for answers

with small flutterings:

Who was it, really,

who lived this life?

 

Hands speak the unspoken

the silent questions pile up

like uncollected mail

 

Browning like pages

from an ancient book

they fold

fragile as moth wings

 

Dried leaves

falling through the night

 

#OldAge #Aging

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AWAKENING

On frosted window

early light—dawn striking sun pearls

It’s Christmas morning

 

#Christmas #ChristmasPoetry

 

 

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The Strangers From the Far Land

They came from over the mountain

From the Far Land

And they said:

We’re the only ones left

We’ve traveled a great distance

and the way was rough

We saw the lights in your castle

The bridge over the moat

was down and unguarded

so we came in

We hope you will welcome us,

And we did.

#Refugees #Immigrants #Celebrate Immigrants Day

 

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In the Dark Night

Naked with fear,

Terror-cold in the doorway,

You cried:

Save me!

 

Light struck the blade

And blood stained the night

 

You cried:

Save me!

 

But we passed you by.

 

There’ll be no peace for us

No matter how we try

We never knew

Our hearts so shriveled dry

Until we passed you by.

#ViolenceAgainstWomen #Shame

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THIS IS THE QUESTION

What do we know

of circumstance

of falling lights

or sunlight’s glance?

 

Do unfound galaxies

yet measured dance?

Did Beethoven hear

the unheard sound?

 

Must our world

forever be by reason bound

and all be tied inexorable

to our limited reality?

 

Where, then, is joy to be found?

 

What do we know

of circumstance

of Time’s slow story,

history’s advance,

mysteries

and surprise of chance?

 

What, now do we really know

of circumstance?

 

#Knowledge #WhatDoWeKnow

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BELOVED CHILD

You wandered where I could not go

And followed ways I did not know,

But you were mine—not long ago—

A maid so mild.

When you first turned toward distant flow

Of waters wild,

I searched for you where poppies grow,

Where dark shapes rise and cold winds blow.

Beloved child

 

Time passed. Love taught me how to cope:

So now I pray and now I hope

That one day soon from far-off roam

You’ll turn again and come back home.

#MotherLove #EstrangedChild

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