Eshtine

poem: 29, or Lanfrey

I dreamed Lanfrey or
I invented his face or
His real voice brushed my ear

I cannot remember or
I never knew

But all roads led him to me
And then snatched him

Gone

And I
I was
Alone

Howling grief
Then searching

Piecing him from
The eyes of one
The smiles of another

Creating him anew
But no Lanfrey
Dreamt or written or real
Could ever stay

My life I searched
For what could only slip away

I stopped at last
Too tired
Nothing I could do

Now it is habit
Searching
Cursing absence

But a habit I will break

Because
My heart has told me
Long after the asking:

He is here
And so am I

He is not who I thought
But neither am I

Posted by eshtine at August 7, 2004 08:35 PM | TrackBack