The Arrival Whose rain is this that subsumes Every continent at once? How did we come to this denouement Bereft of both audience and actor? What lured us to this foreign city Where so much falls prey to so little? I knew better and yet I ventured beyond the light not once but many times, My soul clamoring for its own heedless sacrifice. Must it always have to end this way? Boxes of books stacked in the hall, Their covers lost to gravity? Once it was easy to ignore the prophesies, To let time float above the terrain it ravenously consumed. All our lives we have been waking to this weather, repeatedly startled by the obvious, Suffering it again and again, Each time with no greater recognition, Already I have forgotten the ways I knew you, The sound of your footsteps on the stair, The next-to-last thing I was certain You would say if I confessed my love. They tell me this is necessary, That there can be no progress without letting go. In the darkened chambers of the heart There are no shadows to beguile us. We die always from the outside in, Striving to remember what can’t be abandoned, To make of these enigmas a fortress for what stubbornly remains.
Posted on: Thu, 23 Oct 2014 16:05:30 +0000
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