…is ever truly lost

I use my words to process pain, to learn to live with loss
to have conversations with grief
and to soothe my aching heart
I create metaphors for all that is unspoken
I carve images in empty spaces from memories and wishes
and why nots and what ifs
and all the secrets buried in my hearts’ dark abyss
I drag each line in my creations
unwillingly, from the depths of my desolation
the consequences of love, a seemingly bottomless pit
once held in isolation, now released to unexpected scrutiny
unashamed, my words delight, in singing joyously
and stepping gracefully out of the darkness
dancing upon the long-neglected grave
of my hitherto unshared misery
they do not fill the room with their songs
but they whisper, just as the wind whispers softly to the ocean
in both the flow and the inevitable ebb
and as the moonlight whispers to the trees
with or without their leaves
my weightless words carry a heavy burden
a responsibility to find that fine line
between darkness and light
to reveal beauty in unexpected places
to portray the reality, that nothing is ever truly lost
that the things I never held, still leave an imprint in their wake
and love, is still love, even in the silence
where its waves still call to me, forming the heart of my art
my pen tracing the curves of each wave
each rise and fall a reminder of our love
in all its beauty and its pain
crafting images in words, weaving beauty from darkness
creating a softness to cushion
the constant presence and the absence, of you
in the magic of poetry I can create memories
lighter than starlight or butterflies
that can carry me away into the vanishing night
© Ann Bagnall