every emergence


Lance Henson

every emergence from the shadows is a frontier
with its face turned away
its eyes that cannot close tracing the putrid smoke
above the rivers

rivers that bind the land to our sorrows
our dreams
a brightness surrounds the countryside nearing paris
flowers sleeping in the earth …

and what this evening has the moon seen
soon after midnight it was your voice
breaking in silent waves upon these hours
that have driven me
toward solitude

a single word and the rest of the world grew dim
how have you touched from so far away
the marrow of this night
this breath

yesterday the sun shone
in its afternoon light a single leaf fell to the ground

across the raven colored undersides of day
we walked
toward hope and the fervent desires of the living

with our hands made from the bones of extinct birds
our relatives the refugees
arriving in fields without eyes

we stood

in the first silence

in the last

jan 10.2002

© 1998 Lance Henson

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