Was It He ?
Tonight began with the colours of bruise.
Sleep spilt grit on tears as intent crumbled.
Ears listened awake to a dreamy confusion.
Sorrow's mind questioned what lay undone.
Was it he
who, now timeless, caught my numbness
and lit again love's liquid windows
before grief's descent froze my dreaming ?
Was it he
healed disillusion and showed me ways
to the blaze of a waiting Eternity
and its help with fickle fate's unexpected ?
Eyes opened to answers of no surprise.
Purple mood faded as thinking reversed.
Smiles of knowing threw dry on wet saline.
Tonight will not end before death-cell bursts.
It was he
and the contact still sings to my spirit.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: February 13th, 2017 11:25
- Comment from author about the poem: Just imagining the effect of meeting in dreams those who are gone and ever missed This is a verse of surreal longing after losing to death a much loved soul-mate. Hoping the metaphor and phrasing can be understood.
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 58
- User favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy.
Offline)
Comments2
Beautiful Fay.
In the irresistible loss of my mother I've talked with those closest to me, to find they confess meeting in their dreams whom they've loved and since lost, where I recoiled from such a thing, yet once or twice have found it. This is, as wont, in your characteristically seductive style which draws the reader into the folds of that visionary wold (as Mrs. Barrett Browning referenced) where we lose ourselves to a moment to find..,.how crushing Death thievery forever is, yet granted a touch of solace in beyond, is that? Thanks for sharing. Love you! Oh, and kiss Princess Tessa for me.
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