…an empty place of permanent hush

I still see you in the blooming flowers and hear you in the breeze
you are no longer in that grave, where you were once gently laid
for that was just a quiet place, a temporary resting place
and now you roam the glens and hills
where the thistles honour your courage and your spirit
where the wild heather blooms in its glorious purple hues
no longer stained white, by the salt of my fallen tears
today I raise a glass, not to grief, but to recovery
from my endless tristesse
for my sorrow has been a drowning place
an empty place of permanent hush
and quiet emotions that hold me fast in their soft silken seas
where they sing sweet lullabies to my broken heart
encouraging me to fold like a paper swan
set adrift in rivers of pain
but I am a firebird, a burning furnace, a melancholy rebel
I wear my loss like badge of honour
a constant reminder of running barefoot
through thunderstorms that I once thought I could never survive
so we dance, sorrow and I, drenched in drama and dust
and I carry your ache in a velvet pouch
but I will not open it today, for today I will bloom
even in the ashes, stirring joy into my sorrow
I know, that it doesn’t quite, fit right, but darling it sparkles
and in the folds of dusk, your soul is still lingering
now my sorrow is a mirror that holds me close
when I am falling apart
even the roses know the beauty of wilting
and they have taught me how to bleed
beautifully into
the
deep
abyss
of silence
the shallow waters
where my melancholy finds me
© Ann Bagnall