Should You Ask Me
Should you ask me, some sudden night,
When you are shaken by thunder
Or wake to the batter of rain
Hammering the window,
I would have to say: No. Not anymore.
I do not remember anymore
The color of leaves, or night falling,
The fingered dusk, or how you stood,
Raising your hand, when you left,
And I watched you from the door.
After a time nothing seems the same:
A way of walking, a swallowed glance,
A breath, all these,
Slowly into the startled depths,
Buried without a sound.
The way the sun does not cast shadows.
The way clouds are torn from the sea.
The way the trees do not bend anymore,
Anchored in the rise.
No, these are not thoughts that have fallen,
Aimless, to the frozen earth,
Nor the withered husks of days
No longer forgiven by rain
Or the night's long oblivion,
We make up the silence
Like a sheltered wave,
Broken and surrounded.
And we have nothing, nothing,
Save the night,
Swept with lightning and rain,
And darkness raging around us
Like a flame.