I watched you grow strong
I reached out; with my right hand,
Felt your left shoulder.
I felt you touch me,
Take hold of my left shoulder.
I still feel you there.
I heard what you said,
And watched your words fly away.
I knew you heard me.
Now my words have gone,
Wrapped in the words of others,
But not completely.
Withal such love within our worlds may be:
So must it live within our mind’s frontier?
Or might it dwell within our heart–sincere
Within our soul–wherein we may not see?
Can this I feel, though cannot touch in thee?
May such as this, made manifest, appear?
Or when such love perceivest thou, revere?
Dost this thou feel, though canst not touch in mee?
Yet of this unseen thing are we aware,
As much we would this phantom to possess;
For all its joys impart or its despair
Doth bring to us when once this thing profess.
So dangerous a thing should we declare,
That oft might curse, as well as it might bless.
Newborn, such loneliness should here remain
A silent secret not by choice revealed.
In pride, such bitter pain could be concealed
To hide the habit dark of the insane.
I now would choose to force such better days–
In forcing such, enforce a practice old
Of being happy; so to be consoled
By doubting not the wisdom of my ways.
In life, I pave the road of happiness
To happiness; I cover stones of grief
To see all anguished light through sombred smoke.
And so I go, and smile as I bless
The heart, as I would bless its bitter thief–
An next I die, on too much joy would choke.
More spring than winter
Because it is next of love,
More than first of year.
Every day takes me
In, and out, of everything.
I never doubt it.
And brings a lot more
Than it takes away from me.
It leaves me with love.
Except at the last.
One day, it will either give–
Or take everything.
Thy love will heal all that which may be healed,
And nary harm the healed thou wouldst protect;
Although thy ranks are tempted to neglect
By conjurers the wounded thou wouldst shield.
For that thou know such legions incorrect
To ‘list; For that thy strength is thine; concealed
Amidst a century’s decline, revealed
This siege; so thou this web of lies suspect.
Thy legions racked and perished by the score,
Though others drawn and dead were legions more.
Yet still thy ranks would nurture love and joy,
That blameless thwart such frauds as bid thee hate:
And fiends who tempt thy power to destroy
Will chafe against thy power to create.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
I
love everything
about it, exept
for they who would destroy
it or they who first would make it mad.
Thou hast most welcome been and sorely missed.
Dare I rejoice, thou, to these climes, returned?
I hush… I quiet step… I so resist
So royal thy demesnes from which I’ve learned.
So timidly, in reverence, go out
Among these places once I reminisced
Had left these climes bereft and lost in doubt,
As only such in shadow may persist.
So quiet-speak my joy as must it be;
Although I would my exaltation shout.
My forays brief, my traces few to see;
I dare but little to dissuade throughout.
Yet gingerly I turned my praise for thee
To hopes I’ve earned such days as come to be.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
David Emeron: Sonnets 