If I Believed in Fairies
(“Because of the tender mercy of our God, the
dawn from on high will break upon us.” Luke 1:78)
The day was silent save for the
sleet needles tapping on my window.
They only teased of coming snow.
If I believed in fairies, I imagine they sing
just above our wavelength, carried on ice shards
from clouds to loam or heather.
But today is quiet, a whisper would be too loud.
Your voice, though, cannot disturb the empty canvas
I sit in these days.
One word, or two, and before you know it,
the sun mocks the morning blues away.
Stay. We will sing until the next morning
Or
Until another day like this one.
I can dream standing up,
I can dream step by step,
I can imagine a hand on my shoulder,
I can conjure someone whose silence
turns my reliance on solid ground completely
upside down.
Did you like the photo I sent you. I am
old now
aren’t I?
The lines mark days I no longer remember,
the gaps between my teeth
make me smile, mouth unopened.
But there are still corners of my brain where
I imagine dancing at prom,
reading out loud,
sitting or rolling down a hill until
we can’t stop laughing and remember
everything we hoped would develop with enough
time on our hands.
Today I can see it slightly, when days felt summer,
when nights felt like love. Today I remember and
fill the empty spaces with your portrait
And finish the painting with words.
