This silence only threatened by the straining of my heart, beating, as I wait and wonder. I feel the pressure in my veins, thickened, stained in ancient blood, trying to save me, hoping to quit, forced to move on by only what is left of my physical existence… my beating heart.
Reflecting through the pages, turning each so slowly as if I’ve never known their faces, drawing every image in. A mustiness wafts from the turning, held captive by the dog-eared corners of years long gone. I see my entire life move before me, one sacred image at a time… A whisper culls a quiet question in my mind, “What have I done?” Only to be followed by, “What remains undone?”
History hints at moments hushed, the scent of life, a lover’s blush, then draws a quiet candlelight to show the truths in such. I smile, knowing life’s been good, granted peace as much.
But what of purpose left undone, unshared wisdom, songs unsung? What of steps that fear had stayed when dreams could have been won? Gestalt it seems has made its play, regret has laid its run.
Return again! I must return! This desperation tides my soul, but what of life yet drawn to be, how might I know my role?
Perhaps I come on eagle’s wing, above the alpine valleys. Sing!
Define this life in higher call, perspectives’ sweep to see it all.
Perhaps I come as mountain bear, to dig beneath and find what’s there,
noble in a giant’s strength, yet humbly seeking truth at length.
Perhaps as wolf I come to be, one for the pack, yet one for me
with solitude a living grace, histories ink upon my face.
Oh, but no, I cannot face a life wherein I’d let you slip away.
If must becomes an operand, then for your love I’ll bait that day.
For you, my love, for you, I’d only come to live again if I could be with you.
written for dVerse poetics: Coming Back – 2-Feb-2016