If This Must Be

Let it be 
outside the province
of ordinary days,
 
the habilitations
of sleep, 
moments laid
to rest
in whatever graves
would agree
to keep them.  
 
If not,
then let it be 
at least
no more than this,
 
a timid
knot of wind,
the smallest coil 
released
against 
the cheek 
of a stranger.

If not,
then let it be 
at least
no more than this –
 
an indrawn
breath - 
the one that must 
proceed 
a voice
that is now, 
somehow,
never,
ever a voice.  


© 2008 Anne Fraser

Night Tide

The ocean’s edge,
a ground 
that knows the push
and pull of heaven
 
as surely
as the wave that journeys -
or that within  
 
the splintered things, 
bones and shells,
the startled eyes
of that which was; 
 
yet surely,
there could have been
safety,
 
had understanding 
come more quickly,
or danger 
more slowly, 
 
had all direction 
not been lost,
and the right words,
 
if just one thing
had been different.


© 2008 Anne Fraser

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