we lie awake and we dream of making
our escape:
Luminism - Mark Strand
And though it was brief, and slight, and nothing
To have been held on to so long, I remember it,
As if it had come firm within, one of the scenes
The mind sees for itself, night after night, only
To part from quickly and without warning. Sunlight
Flooded the valley floor and blazed on the town’s
Westward facing windows. The streets shimmered like rivers,
And trees, bushes, and clouds were caught in the spill,
And nothing was spared, not the couch we sat on
Not the rugs, nor our friends, staring off into space.
Everything drowned in the golden fire. Then Philip
Put down his glass and said: “This hand is just one
In an infinite series of hands. Imagine.”
And that was it. The evening dimmed and darkened
Until the western rim of the sky took on
The purple look of a bruise, and everyone stood
And said what a great sunset it had been.This was a while ago,
And it was remarkable, but something else happened then-
A cry, almost beyond our hearing, rose and rose,
As if across time, to touch us as nothing else would,
And so lightly, we might live out our lives and not know.
I had no idea what it meant until now.
--
It's been a long time since I've seen your face <3