PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

we kept the wake
with candles trembling,
faces bent like lilies
over still water.
the room was hushed,
yet every silence
was a tide pulling us under.

outside, the river carried its own wake,
a boat cutting through dusk,
its foaming scars widening,
then closing,
as if absence could be mended
by the patience of water.

and I—
I tried to wake myself
from the dream of your leaving,
to rouse from the heavy sleep
that grief lays upon the chest.
but each time I stirred,
I found only the echo
of your name,
a hollow in the bed,
the weight of your absence
pressing me back down.

so the word circles me:
wake as vigil,
wake as wound,
wake as the cruel summons
to rise into a world
where you are not.

and yet—
in all these meanings,
you remain:
the one we keep watch for,
the one whose passage
troubles the waters,
the one whose absence
shakes me awake
to the fragile,
aching fact of love.

.