there may come a day when loss
transforms into a field of swaying lavender
her backdrop a storm far out at sea
bravery bending down at the helm
pressing soaked against the wind
accepting forgiveness from the moon
pain is comprised of memories
the language of flowers decaying in a
vase
dropping petals on the kitchen
counter
cotton sheets and a softly bent arm
reaching for you to the patterns of
rain outside of the opened window
love is woven through everything
the skin on his cheek where
your finger traced while he slept
the intersection where you stood
when you realized you were hopelessly
lost,
the moment you could breathe again
© 6.4.2016 heather brager
My initial response to this was, "I heavily equate this to one person, and while on one hand I know that time heals all wounds, I am equally aware, the moon can be unforgiving at the most inopportune time."
ReplyDeleteHaving said that, I thought about it over the weekend, and have to conclude, by making this about me, I took the easy way out. What I should have done, was try to connect these dots that lead to you, which is easier said than done. The end result is, I cannot connect these dots and turn them into a constellation any more that I can connect the dots on your freckles to make our whether you have a smile or a frown. I just do not know you well enough to declare. You are a mystery and mysteries are intriguing, and require patience to unravel... There, I feel better now.
Your interpretation was fine. If you read the comments on Facebook, I mentioned that this poem is definitely about loss on multiple levels, loss of life, loss of love, loss of opportunity… And the reality is that we are left standing with whatever it is we chose to experience. I love your comments, thank you for reading.
ReplyDelete