Being there

I don't know why your voice was so near and you were not.

I turned as in a dream to listen,

but your fragmented words scattered in the wind.

Far side of the garden, I caught you crush the grieving lilies,

hand raised as if to say goodbye.

Or was it there to shield your eyes against a blinding light,

that took you with the moon behind the hill?

Where did you go that I could not follow?

Loneliness obscures all reason, refuses truth,

that is to say-

when you are lost, nothing is clear.

Transfixed but strangely calm,

I waited for your backward glance,

your promise of return,

an explanation.

Then from the light, you reached to cast a silver thread,

that one redeeming ray of hope that drew me closer to the truth.

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