Without Echo | Gelflings At Play

Author: Molli
Monday 4th June 2001 at 5:45 pm
Category: Angst, Love, Poetry, Relationships

Tags: indifference, me

There were moments
brief flashes
time turning in my hand like a music box dancer

In the endless pirouettes,
a grace,
a perfection I could never hope to attain

And in those sparkling instances,
those finite seconds
everything in me went out to you
like a flung thunderclap

There are moments,
spans of time waiting
I stay still for the echo, the reverberating aftershock
but there is nothing

only a silence,
words caught in lassitude
with no thought of moving, no hope of being heard,
only empty silence.

My words fall,
a quiet thud,
like lifeless bodies slumping to the floor
no afterlife, no resurrection

and you would be moved to tears
had you known them
had they been as intimate with you
as I wanted them to be

but my words are strangers
as foreign to you and as alien
as your lips are to mine.
Why should you mourn a thing
you never truly had?

My words fall
in those perfect moments,
clumsy and stumbling,
never to pirouette with the joy and grace I would wish for them

In between one tick of the clock’s second hand
and the next,
one revolution of those infinitesimal wheels of the music box
and the one to follow,
in those brief, finite flashes
when my soul goes out to you
like a storm breaking,
a thunderclap without resonance,
without echo,
without memory;
in that one anticipatory moment

the ballerina slumps to the stage.

5:45pm Monday
4.June.2001

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