This is the second in the series of poems that I’m posting. This is an immediate sequel to the previous poem (though I don’t exactly remember which I wrote first, since I did so at about the same time). The same notes apply.
I looked at summer sunbeam hair
And river glisten eyes,
Skin like fine potter’s clay
And a smile of hewn red marble,
In my mind I saw her face
Was it laughing or was it smiling?
Did I see her as I aught to
Or did I not give joy due credit?
Hearing her voice sting chimingly in my ears…
Or was it melodious?
Had I masked with self-doubt and self-pity
The truth shining bright
And despised the refiner’s fire,
And instead of yielding up my impurities,
Become hard as stone?
But in my ears was the laughter sweet
And the palate unduly bitter;
I could have better listened
Before declaring my clay fully hardened,
And before turning from her ringing
I should have cleared from my ears some rubble
And then could I have heard her say,
What was she beckoning?
Her eyes were fastened like raindrops
On a tempered glass covering
On a burning summer’s day,
Longing to enter the parched earth beneath.
But my face was barren
Like a stony jagged mountain
Where not a drop had fallen
And the earth’s heart could not hear her say,
But she poured rain down on the hot glass awning
And broke it clear through,
And her tears did fall from its river in heaven
And gushed through the cracks clear to the foundation
And my rubble was melted and my heart became clay
And to my astonishment,
I heard her say,
“I love you.”