Echoes ★★★

Recollection comes
as if through a clouded mirror
time separating me
as it surely must
from these details
as if morning dew
or the heartbeats of cicadas
Excepting of course
the glimpses and shards
those most acute pin points
vivid images and words burned into me
the line of a body
a sentence, a gesture
a solitary fraction of a singular moment
I ache inside my unsettled trembling
idea of self
groping but tentative
reaching out and pulling back
cursing my naivety
my history
I long with a depth
as complete as anything else
to be held in steady arms
buried into softness
pressed firmly
to the sound of a beating heart
I want to hear the sweet words
soothing the cracks in my mettle
in my wavering consciousness
consolidating and consoling
A reassurance that all
in time, in this moment
is well, is good, is whole
falling from soft lips
like the echoes of distant windchimes
tiny white flowers on a climbing vine