Will You Still be Gone?
When I reopen my eyes in the morning
will you still be gone?
will the wind care to carry that wing
will this light evade this dawn
to remind me cruelly
that it can sting
again and again
on sight and with prejudice
mindful and dull,
it can all be you, without me
will you still be not here, or there?
will I fear
knowing what I have always known
reminded and null
that when I reopen my eyes in the morning
my love for you will never be as clear
or as strong, as lightless
as this awakening
never as vivid as this dream
in which I saw you gleam
minutes before
in a timeless stream
of still tears
shapeless, arid and aching
as if wingless on a windless shore
of weathered will and empty years
Will you still be gone
when I call your name, once again?
