Her place among infinities

The brute voice of the Atlantic
placed her among infinities.
She would stand at the window,
looking out, laughing at life's blame
when no cloud could be forgiven.

(Her soul was still full of him;
between her lips and his,
the waves fell and emotions stumbled
into words:
they were fragments of meaning)

She watched the elegant performance
of the sea endlessly repeated, thinking
love was a work of pure sorcery,
a mystery beyond metaphors.

In solitude complete,
she could hear the orchids growing:
a spring's last benediction
as he helped her to recognize
her own voice.

But love is a creature of seasons
and Winter couldn't be retarded
with gentle flowers.

After all this time,
she still doesn't know
what to make of freedom.
Her weary hands inherited
more lines than she can account for
and as the ocean dissolved
those memories to nurture her,
she was led unsuspecting
into poetry once more.

Karla Bardanza