Until Last Light
by Lynne Dhenson (hycnthblue@aol.com)
Archive: On m_a, please.
Categories: Poetry, Point of View, Drama
Rating: PG
Spoilers: TPM
Summary: Thoughts of the past, and of the future.
Feedback: Any and all comments most welcome.
Disclaimer: SW:TPM's characters are George Lucas', and very
emphatically not mine.
Until Last Light
Weep not, weep not, my broken trembling heart:
my love and I are but a thought apart,
for all those things I found in him most dear
are more than needed to recall him here.
There are provisions for this living death--
provisions that I drew with every breath
when I was with him all those happy years,
while never fearing aught but foolish fears,
nor never knowing what it was I kept,
and never understanding why I slept
and woke (rare times) with troubled semi-dreams;
cold fate is more exacting than it seems.
Still--ah! For that, I would be hardly fair
to cry I have not memories to spare
of him, of us, and of the moonlit nights;
of words, of silences, of sweeping flights
of wonder soaring higher than the skies;
of daring turns, of peace, and of his eyes.
Then every salt-laced droplet is transformed
into a crystal prism, which, when warmed
by any hint of sun, flares colors 'round;
and those pale thoughts, so stark and heavy-gowned
in winter veils, are flushed with newfound spring:
no dying can withstand what life can bring.
My shield, my sword, my guide he was--and is;
my strength wells from my heart--and thus, from his;
and even anguish cannot leave its track
if he shines brighter than despair is black.
As darkness is by light uniquely tamed,
so tears of grieving are by joy reclaimed.
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