Loss Now Lingers


Weaving her illusions

Loss begins as a sad melody 
and softens as she lingers
but her songs do not belong to me
in her flooding tides they rise 
upon the waves of an ancient wind
the darkness is tangled in her hair
her wayward beauty shames the roses
as she revels in the purpled night
swirling in the silver shadows 
discarded by the moon
she catches my tears and like pearls 
they adorn her pale white throat
as she takes her throne in her elysian airs 
 
The day reaches out with trembling hands 
seeking permission to rise once more
the morning sun is hesitant as her blood stains
the first of the pale morning sky
Loss watches on the night still filling her eyes 
like oceans that desire the lightless depths 
and shun the warmth of the sun
the dawning breathes her gilded breath 
across the slumbering sorrowful domain 
touching all with the gentle strokes of hope

Loss bows her head in acknowledgement 
but she does not surrender
still whispering her sultry songs
she dances in the fog swirling around my heart
casting the spells that keep me bound
I knew that she would cleave to me 
like all the things that I try not to remember
her shadows lengthen and circle me
and darkness falls once more upon my soul

The velvet night brushes against my skin 
a touch that is intimate yet somehow distant
the moon spins silver threads across the darkness 
and as if to lift my heart the stars have gathered 
like fields of flowers across the black sky
where Loss now lingers in her perfumed breeze
weaving her illusions and creating beauty from pain 
my memories still clinging like vines to a tree
the tendrils of Loss, her endless, aching refrain
but her songs do not belong to me

© Ann Bagnall

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