Unrehearsed

Unrehearsed

You set the stage that day,
for a backward age that might send
you off down the years
before tears and stains painted wrinkles
at the corner of practiced smiles.

You wished it clean, the mind and matter
that scattered your private dreams toward the sky,
seen by every passerby, but still unnamed.

Your innocence passed too fast; forward through
the crowded tunnel where those who enter
all arrive at the same destination. Outside that
grand opening, with eyes squinted shut at the sun’s
silver blast,
we face each other with nowhere else to go.

You made your decision, unfeigned, unpainted;
while the grain showed the pattern of joy and pain,
your eyes caught every motion, your mouth once
announcing ocean high and low, ebb and flood;

While most of us just cover up with scented suds.

You called us to our places that day,
far ahead of your age, no wrinkles named
by curled lips, and blackbird feet;
you smelled the air, heard the spring like
lilacs overhead, and knew, old or early,
the day could not wait until more audience arrived.

She stepped out from among us, began the truth-telling
(like a folk story retelling), that helped spell-bound
the one or two, either side of her,
who heard her eschew a fully staged confession, to
trade it for the first
unrehearsed whisper.