ACHROMATIC

In death, you spoke your loudest ever,
mother, in crystal clear tones
devoid of your timeless, threadbare
timorousness.

Thenceforth, I live a waking dream in
black and white, every colour in
me petrified into a vast frozen ocean. 

Not all silence is golden; yours cast
an ineffaceable leaden
shroud on my soul, its every particle 
bears the weight of the
Universe.

Light and breath turn away in sorrow
from its ashen presence,
this spectre in a now wonted state of
flux, moulding itself to
your distant whispers. Yes, you make
yourself heard.

I now stand at the edge of everything
I do, of all I have ever done,
as a storm in slow motion engulfs me,
its grand greyness enmeshed
with my soulscape.

The mysteries of pain occupy all that
remains of me, its elastic
expanses and yielding shores.
This is my sole earthly mission; I seek
to fathom the only gift you
didn't begrudge me.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: www.johnwilliamwaterhouse.com
Artist: John William Waterhouse