Later Comes Too Late. . . .

 

Not now!  Later! . . . .

It is time to be reminded not to spend recklessly what we cannot recover.  It was a late night comedian we were watching and he was interviewing a married couple who were both American song stylists.  Already you know it was  some time ago.

 Asked how they stayed married for so long (over 25 years and had grown sons) she said,  we have never had an indepth conversation!  That was my generation’s lifestyle though not everyone’s choice.

This poem has words for those who would like sufficient time to put thoughts on the table to be picked up one by one and allowed to be heard to completion. But what is heard going out the door is, not now! Later! 

But later comes too late.

However long the night is. . . .

However long the night is,
is however long we’ll talk.
A tongue dismembered from its throat
is punishment too severe to be humane.

It has taken a life of silence
to filter through its members,
lessons enough for the toughest skin to break.

I have marched with your words
through endless tasks, through nights
not filled with magic.
And heard the harangue from compressed lips
tearing even the plea of forgiveness from Me.

Now I promise.

In the stillness of the life you know
I will come for you.  In the light of the night
I will make my way and no walls
will bar my entry.  I will sit the night and
across the table a hand will clasp
the one you call your own.

And in the magic of words spoken,
I will listen to the story
built to house lives of wonder.
It has taken too long.

And we the each will speak and listen
and as the words flow like rivers
toward their delta in ribbons of courage,
we will stay the night.  And
however long the night is,

is however long we’ll talk.

 

(haunted forever by a photo such as this when time and place to talk were held sacred.  Where and when memory does not reveal.)

photo by John Holmes

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