, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


what memory
have you of this
of ways before the start
we dreamed a world
beyond our pulled apart
beyond this night
forgotten –
another willed to be
echoes down the meadow
from the sea

floated past the window
inches from the grey
ashes fell
reminding me to pray
for someone
without name I knew
someone still to mourn
let me find
remembrance here
an essence
without form

what truth
denies the bending
of sacrifice to sight
leaves the gate wide open
every night
hastens now the winter
to rush the fragile spring
hears the song
made sweeter
by the wing

. . .