…begins again
I read the night
like a well-worn book
whose pages
I am endlessly turning
caught in an endless
looping reality
where I linger in limbo
listlessly drifting
from dream to dream
which in the moment
appear unseen
yet as the reels turn
again and again
familiarity caresses
the corners of my mind
I see flashes, glimpses
snippets of you
and it is always
that moment
when your face
is almost clear
that the ageing film
bubbles and melts
burning away
into darkness
the sound
becomes distorted
and slow
as
if
you
are
fading
away
once
more
but I know in my heart
that you are already
long gone
and the distorted echoes
and the acrid fumes
of melting memories
are emanating from me
from the very core
of my being
once again forsaken
broken by the night
by the sight
by that one glimpse
by that shadow
of your face
it becomes clear
that each day
begins again
softly scented
with the aching
absence of you
as I ready myself
to clear the slate
to come to terms
with the hand of fate
to turn my back
on the world of night
to enter the day
to walk alone once again
I meticulously follow
my sorrowful routine
shoulders back
eyes forward
as I lean into the light
but the weight
of your absence
will not be denied
even as the shredding threads
of my fading dreams
slip further out of reach
I am filled with a sense
a presence
unseen and unheard
that cannot be denied
those traces of you
that I cannot grasp
the you that cannot hear
the unasked questions
the you that cannot speak
the unspoken answers
you are in the wind
that gently teases my hair
that sings through the trees
and caresses the leaves
and whispers to me from afar
an underlying softness
that cushions the day
light as a feather
yet so hard to bear
I feel you every second
every minute
and I cannot turn away
in my heart I know
the awful truth
and I surrender gently
to the waves of despair
in the knowledge
that you will still come to me
as the wind in my hair
but I will no longer hear you
no longer see you
anywhere
© Ann Bagnall
