The Birth Of Loss - Poem by John Sarvay
The silence came mostly between the tides –
in the deep tranquil moments
of gently lapping water
and occasional leaping perch;
between the low chime of bells,
murmured chants on wind.
The silence was carried
upon that strange ripple of rhythm:
the noticeable absence of gulls.
They were blessed that spring with solitude
and the sort of thick vibrant sunsets
expected from summer,
when the last pulsing glow
sears the day closed
with abrupt gentleness –
snap awake and it's dusk.
She told him she woke
with a cry at the whisper of the screen,
the rustlings of sudden loss;
that he slumbered and slipped,
murmuring her name
as the crash of waves
caressed them with its sad lunar pull.
It was as if they had ceased being,
returned to their imagining;
as if they still drifted in the flow,
in her tidal estuary.
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