The Lost and the Loved

The Lost and the Loved

 

Glitter from way beyond the farthest stars

sheds ancient light on celestial memoirs,

a long time departed, still reaches hands

to rinse among coarse quintillion sands

within shoreward lapping sapphire brine,

beckons us to scan back through time;

piece together any puzzles we may find

with acceptant heart and unlaced mind.

Some kind few are forgetful; they know

that fingernails and hair continue to grow

once soil has sealed wood caskets below,

green crops paint on cold canvas of snow.

Look forward to less years than lie behind,

dim eyes bloom blind to old lovers’ crimes

and you, my lost love, do you still shine?

So many and yet still too few, all living,

all breathing, all mingle spirits unforgiving

or not inside my head; may well be dead

if all good memories have upped and fled

by your own hand. But damned if we won’t

bring them back in brief instances, don’t

be told it’s wrong to honour what’s past.

Now you say you can cut off and cauterize

septic wounds with hard phrase, vandalize,

spray the past with graffiti and call it art

to still be imprisoned by someone’s heart

who say they love, but do not set you free,

do time breaking hard rocks of jealousy,

that splinter into wild gyres, keen shards,

slithering serpents to poison kind words,

but we're so small in moment and so short

that I do reach to kiss you in my thoughts.

We all are stars; the loved light the lost

from Great Bear to the Southern Cross

calling to lovers brandished by flaming fire

in memories that live on and never expire.