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.
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.
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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.
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May poetess I woo thy spirit hence?
For, surely am I starving of thy words;
Or in the lack this treading represents;
Mine inspiration drowning out by thirds.
I prithee hope thy veils might be taught
If capable a student, I might thence
Command or coax the layers thou hast wrought;
And offer up the same in my defence.
Should then I hope, with verse, or even song,
To woo thy spirit hence? For once I fought
Not shame, nor thine offence; wouldst think me wrong,
Though flesh nor soul, but wordly spirit sought?
Might then my song thy wordly spirit move?
If worthy I, thy lifelong student prove.
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I wish, O poetess, had not thou gone,
‘Least in thy stead thy words so wish remained.
Where hast thou hence thy beauty borne away?
And whence hath run thy passion unconstrained?
For thee, in early morn I searched; the dawn
Had not yet broke, nor made the rain to slake;
But now, forever falling rain might stay,
And dawn, I fear, or joy, might never break.
To whence were hid thy words I goe anon,
Or thence wherein my heart thy words might tend.
So ever seek the light shall I of day;
Thy dawn to chase, this rain in hopes might end;
Await the dawn until return again
Thy words, and fondly beg thou wilt remain.
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There was a time when you and I were just
As now, but happy still. So long withdrawn
And faded with our will, the time has gone.
It’s passed us altogether now; the best
Of love and hate has gone, yet can be pressed
In pages past, as likeness penned or drawn.
If we begin a love again thereon
We might continue still, but would attest
A pain as well, which sadly we have known,
That delves within, and minds and hearts perceive
Inside our wiser selves. Perhaps, above
All else, it would be best to leave alone…
Perhaps it would be best for us to leave…
For us to leave alone our smiling love….
David Emeron: Sonnets 