Gesture
I
know the strand of darker hair
that
falls in front of my ear,
the
one you noticed when I
leaned
into your willing chest.
Your
gentle fingers slowly tucked
and
smoothed, then raked a row from
temple
to nape. I couldn’t see your eyes,
but
I felt them seeing golden, flax, and sand
in
trinity and bending to your will.
I
felt you seeing fingers and hair
but
maybe also a woman and the colors
of
her soul as they look to you now,
the meta-cognition
that they’re changing
every instant,
the momentary question
what does she feel about my fingers in her hair
or the words I haven’t said but may have thought?
I felt you
seeing the painted husk of me, but tender all the same.
My
sigh might have been a gasp,
an
unbelieving wish
to
remember.
Traveling a path in the woods of the mind;
ReplyDeleteA forest of petrified memories.
No need to gaze upon the dead trees
Seen so many times before.
Sighs cover the sound of footsteps.
On a patch of soil rests a dying leaf;
Valiantly struggling in a deadened space.
Listen closely to the silent scream;
This leaf has a story to share.
A seed which dreamed of a mighty oak
Loosely planted within the soul.
Roots of hope began to take to hold
As the stem dared to make its ascent
Beyond the doubtful mind, reaching the door of heaven;
Carrying memories of a lifetime upon its branches.
Sprawling across the ocean of time,
Nourished by the seven virtues.
Until the lumberjack appeared
With axe in hand; severing the dream.
Cries and pleas went unanswered.
A single leaf prevails.
The dream coursing through collapsing veins.
Fighting to remain...
To not be forgotten by the very soul who planted it.
Thanks for reading. In what ways do you see your poem and "gesture" in conversation? And do I know you?
ReplyDeleteWhat does it mean to know someone?
ReplyDeleteThe phenomenon of understanding another soul.
Strangers in passing,
Yet connected through shared experience.
Conjectures formulated and applied.
Let us test the theories and compare results.
Full disclosure from one to another;
Al-Haytham would be proud.
But I wonder if he related to people?
Science doesn't have the personal touch.
How do we relate?
Perhaps we don't.
Therein lies the intrigue.
The moments of one caressing your hair;
Reaching past the follicles while gazing into your mind.
The single leaf which remains once its home is destroyed.
Why does it still fight?
Mother nature raised her children well.
The correlation between a thought and memory.
But who is doing what?
Subconscious visions rarely makes sense when written down
Except to the one who owns them.
Do you know me...do I know you?
Our answers are always one-sided.
Shades of grey ignored until we are on the stand.
Then, the grey takes center stage.
Dancing in the realm of uncertainty.
One cannot know what they don't understand.
Yet one cannot know the story of a closed book.