Tuesday, January 31, 2012

An Answer



















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser




At the end of every day

there is a silence that creeps

in.



It’s the unoccupied space

filled with memories

and what ifs.



Sometimes it has a name.



Usually not.



It keeps me in good company,

dependable

and never argumentative.



We’ve started growing old

together,

like long familiars do.



But lately my gratitude for

such a simple departure

into the night has begun

to wane.



I hear voices after the sun

sets.



One of them sounds like mine.



I dare myself to believe

in the other,



with little success

as of yet.



What does one do with

an interlude

in which a single candle

burns



faster than the red wine?



Perhaps this is a space

reserved for prayers.



If so, I am lacking,



for I have forgotten

for that which I used to pray

so heartedly.



“Maybe,” says the flickering

flame,



“you are not to pray,



but to become the answer



to a prayer.”



© 2012-2013/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life." (www.hiraethpress.com)

4 comments:

  1. So deeply heartfelt and moving... In may case it's that I seem to forget *to* whom I used to pray - and even that has changed over the years. Your poem speaks to me of that as well...that longing in the heart... And so I have taken to walking at twilight, during these liminal times, the in between silent times...

    Much gratitude for your wonderful words...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you CK - looking forward to hanging out with your blog and your verse. Blessings to you...

    ReplyDelete
  3. Jamie, I love the rawness of this. Thank you for sharing. xo

    ReplyDelete
  4. (((Alyce))). Thank you for being in the Circle Lovely. xo

    ReplyDelete