Sunday, October 31, 2010
Bead Softly, Memories
BEAD SOFTLY, MEMORIES
Bead softly, memories, here upon the string of my heart,
Glide smoothly, kiss each other gently, nestle
Into the caves and caverns and crevices of my soul.
Sing, memories, sing to me, fill me, hold me.
For love comes so rarely, and true love rarer still,
When memories are all that are left,
Treat them kindly. Wear them around your neck,
Visible only to yourself, and
Let them beat against your heart with every step.
Wrap them around your fingers, place them on the
Doorposts of your gates, place them between your eyes
Like the Shema. Feel them bless you
Every time they come to call. In time, in God’s good time,
Rise up, O memories, sing loudly, let not love
Be forgotten.
I swear to you, on my very life, I will not forget you,
And I will never stop loving you. And when you cannot
Hold me, the memories will lay softly against my heart,
Loving you with every beat.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
For My Lover
For My Lover
There was a time, my love, in the not-so-distant past,
When I swore I would never leave, my love would last.
And yet, I am going, but not for lack of love do I leave,
But because of it, for you, do I go, and grieve.
I grieve for the days that never will be; I sorrow
For all of the nights, and the joyful tomorrows
That we might have had, you and I, forever,
If only, if only, if only…but knowing… never.
Oh, we shall remain friends, at least for a while,
We’ll write and we’ll phone and remember the smiles,
And one day, with surprise, we’ll surely recall
That we haven’t heard from each other at all.
How long has it been, we’ll think to ourselves,
And grasp for the memories we put on the shelves,
And reach for a jar, all dusty and brown,
With trembling fingers, we’ll take the jar down.
We’ll look inside, and lo and behold,
The love is still there, though tattered and old.
And one of two things will happen, my love,
One of two things will release like a dove.
Either the jar will return to its place deep inside,
With the love still there, though weakened by pride.
Or we’ll look at the love, and decide it’s worth saving,
Then pick up the phone, begin praying, praying, praying.
Phoenix Hocking
October 30, 2010
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]
