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Thursday, March 27, 2008
Edgar Linton {9:30 PM}
A poem I wrote many years ago from the perspective of Edgar Linton from Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights"
i know that even now
you are with him
that you hold in your hand
his
and not mine
we are beneath the earth
- the three of us
where no wind blows to unsettle ash
but still your every dust
mingles with his
and not mine
you reached out with your hand
and closed it around his
together you are the wings
of a common bird
and you bring it to flight
to soar it across the sky
one pair of hands
that holds the whole wide world
i can only look
to where you are free
and be heavy with the knowledge
that i can never join you
soft white angel wings on my back -
i lift one foot ( first the left )
and then the next ( then the right )
but, oh ! -
they are too fragile to fly
i cannot touch the sky
it is beyond my reach
but, my love
my ashes are the nest
upon which when you are weary
you may rest
riexco2008
