The Answer Will Come Poem by e.e. wilholt

**

Passionate fear disturbs you, love.
Dry hands resting faintly on the balustrade,
My good friend Icanovich
Asks to greet you for him.
Past memories glowing dimly in your head
Ignite; I fiercely perish.
Don’t leave me away, love.
Cherish my ashes when they are gone—
You will not be knowing
What you have done.

Passionate fear disturbs you.
Dry hands clasped roughly,
Age together moves us away
Toward empty lifeless days.
Quivering lips ask old questions
But yesterday has answered you.

Passionate fear disturbs you, love.
Lying there you tremble
Dry hands in mine shaking,
Old head rests
Cradled by my pillow
As troubled eyes search the ceiling.
Calm, love. The day is calm.

Passionate fear envelopes you.
Dry trees, bare branches quiver coldly
In the wind;
On endless winter walks
Leaves have fallen desperately inside me.
Lie coldly, love
Lie cold.

Passionate fear has taken you, love.
Dry hands once quivering rest quietly now
On my cold pillow,
And wrinkled faces question no more
For heavy fire burdens.

Your house stands empty and alone.
Dark shrouds of evening envelope
Musty carpets and curtains;
Towers of dust stand floating
Heavy on air
As shadowy dreams sift
On forgotten walls above the fireplace.

Lie happy in your only bed, love.
Let passionate fear close
Within your soul,
Let it leave gently.
Ask quietly now, love
For tomorrow softly
The answer will come.


***