Listen to your voice

 Listen to your voice

Those hangers hold my clothes, as I held pain,

yet dripping garments lighten as they dry

like storm-held anguish, now a gentle rain.

Six cotton angels summoning some wind;

soft signal hastening to stop the why

and listen to your voice, first time, again.

What sounds we heard, the rumbling of a train

and river-tears that darkened as we cried

like storm-held anguish, now a gentle rain.

Embedded in a pillow, heads had lain

so sweet asleep, then same awake; I try

to listen to your voice, first time, again.

I dreamed some bird--Egret, or leggy Crane

flew down to me, no sense of it, so why?

Abjure all storm-held anguish, feel the rain.

As day reveals us slowly, so the wane

of sleeplessness and pondering a sigh;

We rise to love and silencing all pain,

let go the storm-held anguish, feel the rain.

7.16.13  In celebration & memory of my son,

David Scott Weeks.