Wednesday, December 24, 2014

O Come, Emmanuel ...




O Come Emmanuel ...

the prairie flowers of my youth
the heat of summer romances
the certainty of autumn's colourful promise
the fire of hope bending a boy into a man
i remember so little now
as the days drift by
like empty seedpods swirling past in random gusts
rising and falling aimlessly in a cold wind
a wind that throws a veil of snow
over tired eyes searching for a way home
a journey under stars less distinct
and less inspiring than ever before
not stars so much as candles in dark windows
that flicker once or twice
only to puff out mercifully in a trail of lazy smoke
and though the road is icy with hardship
though the destination seems forever unknown
still the sound of your voice
singing "O Come, Emmanuel" to me on the darkest winter's night remains
still the softness of your touch
wiping the frozen years from my scarred cheek remains
still the scent of your flesh
wet and careful against my flesh remains
and so i am writing these last desperate words
to promise what the wind
and the stars and the frosty paths
could never know
for as surely as this body will falter
as certain as life will rush from the ebb and flow of this heart
and as sadly as this voice is silenced by the dust and ashes of passing
i will in that final and defining moment
remember
you



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