Posthumous silence, no clocks keeping pace

Sepia stain masquerading your face

Time standing still on twelve moons never seen,

tugging my sleeve, so curious and clean

Frozen in frames on your living room floor,

these blue flannel daydreams I slept in and more-

The future lay scattered with jackets and jeans,

beer cans and plans…ends and means

 

I wandered away in the groves of the trees

laughing afraid into nights like these

With moonlit precision I tripped out of line

over cracked open cases of dandelion wine

Dangerous distractions chilled in your warmth

uncorked and breathing the scent of the earth-

Choosing your call, falling upward in grace,

invisible flakes freezing down on my face

 

You unzipped my cloak and delivered me home

in ninety-nine bursting balloons all in one

I loved the suspense and we go, and we go

but the world’s hard cacophony tortured your soul

You flew to the sun and burned through it good

while I held the vision, and see it I could-

You had been born to shine light on my choice

and I was deciding to smother my voice

 

I wanted to whisper my truth to your soul

reclaiming the rapture that silence stole

But we were all flailing and flying to hide,

all of us blind with our mouths open wide

I saw your eyes buried alive in your nest

and my wild child was silenced so deep in my chest-

Mosaic crypt, marbled, all fractured and broken

What would be different if someone had spoken?