Unhurried Winter Dawn

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Photo by Vincent Guth on Unsplash

Unhurried Winter Dawn

Approaching winter solstice,
dawn is a selfish lover
refusing to yield our time –
stubborn purple shawl – to Sol’s
feeble glare; nature is still,
unsure of beginning as
humanity’s headlamps speed
through, splitting tapestry in
two in the name of progress,
civilization’s ego,
harsh budgetary deadlines,
missing blissful, seemingly
fickle metamorphic dance
of dew into mist into
diamond dust. The disturbance
is a series of ripples;
dawn creeps along on her own
terms, and I love her all the
more for it. I wait with her.

Some speed off into the day,
fixated on what comes next.
Others linger in the night,
trapped by fate no longer seen.
Stay here with us for a while.
Let your eyes adjust to her.
See how her shadow shimmers?
Unhurried, yet still fleeting.
Past problems hold no power.
Next year’s light won’t reach us yet,
but today’s sunrise soon will.
I wish you’d too embrace her,
in her splendid stubbornness.
Her wonders are apparent.
You need only to wait here,
and see her stir for yourself.
***

Inspired by Poets United Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Year’s End, hosted by Susan.

All Hallow’s Etiquette

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Photo by Neven Krcmarek on Unsplash

Hallow’s Etiquette

There is just nothing
remarkable about a
Hallow’s witching hour,

where absence of light and sound
pile upon one another

until the deprived
senses conjure demons, ghosts,
and apparitions of distress

manifested in the failures
of our memories, or
their perfectly successful manner

of projecting memories
of our failures back upon us
like a house of haunted mirrors.

That ghoul is not a ghoul;
it is an eye-floater
casting a shadow upon
your retina

that became entangled
with a stray set of neurons
where an unresolved
disagreement with

your long-dead beloved
continues to take up
residence; our evolved
pattern-recognition

makes us see their sunken cheeks
and disapproving glare, and
nothing more than that.

At the very least,
that is what I tell myself
to keep my heart from racing

and my unspoken words
from spilling into this dense,
uncaring,
unremarkable space
at this ungodly hour,

where no one replies
to my wailing demands for reason,
and for good reason,
as no one is here
to hear them.

But in the extremely
unlikely event
that I’m wrong about this,

all of these reasonable
observations,
which I’m mostly certain
is extremely improbable,

if they truly exist
between our realms,

my first thought would be
probably
that demons, ghosts, ghouls,
and all the like,

in addition to being
needlessly frightening,

in all these years of
ignoring my queries

they’re also extremely rude.
***

Inspired by All Hallow’s Eve and Poets United: Midweek Motif ~ A Million Years Howl When Voices Whisper Among The Trees, hosted by  Sanaa Rizvi.

Also shared at dVerse OLN: Casting a Spell, hosted by Linda Lee Lyberg.

Echo’s Lament

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Echo And Narcissus, John William Waterhouse (1903)

Echo’s Lament

I am not yet ready to live

and yield my love to another

 

I have not yet explored

the wonders of choice

having none to choose from

other than my unanswered desire

 

My waning heart cannot see

beyond the beauty by the pond

who will not see me

 

as I diminish with daylight

you won’t see even less

 

I will not waste time

embracing another

 

You are kind and fair

but reflection can never compare

 

So much the better;

had I caught your eye

 

Your gaze reflected

upon my echo

repeated back

into your flawless eyes

reflecting into the echo

chambered within my

unrequited heart

would echo my loss

onto your being

 

reflecting an infinite wound

 

and I adore you too much

to even risk destroying a world

where you can only find love

at the surface of you

 

I’d sooner die than crush

even the façade of you and

 

I’d sooner die than live

without my beloved

 

I’d sooner die and wither

like crystalized narcissus

in a December evening frost

 

I’d sooner die in a winter whisper

heard only by the lonely

and I’d sooner die

sooner still

 

I’d sooner die

and fall

into nothing

but sound

 

I’d sooner die

sooner…

die

** *

Written for Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Narcissus (Vanity/Narcissism), hosted by Susan. I chose to give voice to Echo, the mountain nymph, because of course I did.

Because of course I did.

I did.