Friday, September 20, 2013

Of Imminent Interlacing

My love, the imminence of Past aches mutely on the air
The eloquence of word cannot appease its certainty
And though joy wings its flight it interlocks with sorrow where
Love’s labyrinth of living folds Time’s moments tenderly

Planting, tending and gathering; sweet hours coalesce
In retrospect we cannot rearrange its aftermath
How is it there appears a tear amidst this happiness?
As childhood’s fleeting heaven soon is strewn on living’s path

My love, the blush of morning fills the dark and stricken deep
And only by God’s grace can we embrace its mystic must
The fulcrum of existence joins Past’s everlasting sleep
Yet Hope attunes the heart in passages from dust to dust

My love, we cannot linger long to trace Time’s filigree
The imminence of Past makes precious every gifted breath
For soon a choir of echoes claims this present melody
In its fair, finest interlace of birth and life and death

© Janet Martin 

The other evening at my daughter's bridal shower we all agreed that our own showers did not seem so very distantly past and twenty-some years can disappear exceedingly fast!

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