AWAITING
REVIVAL
EUGENE D’VAZ
There was a time
When rainbow sun and wind
were wedded to my emotions
of love, a promise given or forgotten,
then you let your limp fingers
cradle in my palm,
you let your parted lips
be kissed into an enveloping
flame of the world.
I have grown tired.
May be you were not the one
churning my dreams
under the blankets of sleep.
May be your breasts and parting thighs
were the symbols of some colossal celebration
an invitation
or an instigation perhaps.
I wait before a desert of silence.
I see you open and close doors
of the home I have left behind.
Will not the smile of radiant Eros
unfold some other secret
for me to shove under my pillow.
Tomorrow another door has to be unlocked
I know that somewhere
in the little pockets of my soul
the silver key waits
for my fumbling fingers.