Had I Whispered it Long Ago
Whisper brushes like a too familiar stranger on the subway train.
Annoyed at the intrusion, you fume but whisper nothing back.
Oh, you have things to tell that wispy voice,
Things you’ll get around to when it’s right.
Somehow the time seems wrong, just another day or two….
It seems to whisper things you knew but would forget.
It does not forget, that wispy voice; it’ll not let go—
Not because of that which could have been,
But because of that which was and now is gone.
Another breath and soft caress; too close to stay.
Jumble of noise not making sense, just go away!
Behind your back, around your head, but never in your ear—
Persistent pest, that weak-willed voice won’t halt,
Won’t stop to breathe sweet nothings…No….
No; it shares no nothings with your ear.
Let it buzz and flit about; there’s no response for nothing.
When it’s calm there will be time to whisper—
No, not whisper—time to say, “ .”
Then the pesky buzz, the wordless whisper, might go away.
Days pass ‘til you can’t tell if it’s been weeks or months,
But still the whisper’s there, no change you can detect.
Weeks go by until they’re months or maybe even years.
Has there been a time you didn’t know this background noise,
This softly rustling, whispering, rasping sound?
Hard to remember…there was a time, it seems,
When faint whispers found their way inside
To mingle with the messy parts of who you are.
Those pleasing sounds couldn’t be the same as this?
This darting, fleeting, mad’ning hum?
No, no, they’re not the same, they couldn’t be,
One looked to be a part of you. This other: apart from you.
So you change your days and set your mind to other things—
Tune out that vexing sound apart from you—
To fix those messy parts which it deserted long ago.
Less and less do you hear the buzz, the whispering fades,
Tugs less frequently, and only here and there in small crescendos.
Failing to remember the place it loved
and what it used to say,