This Place

This Place




I wander down the track your feet have trod upon a thousand times

And feel your presence standing near, your shadow on my heart.

Did the quiet seep beneath your skin to set your pulse to pound

In fear, or did the silence sing to you a tranquil song?



Are your tears encased within the mortar set between the stones

You laid so lovingly by your own hand to mark your path?

I hear the echo of the hammer ring upon the time-worn beams

And smell your sweat hang heavy, still, as on those sultry days.



I hear your wordless whispers every way I turn and wonder

What you would have done within this place had time allowed,

Had choice been free, had you not gone ahead of me.

But do the stones, the beams, the mortar, hold yet your once-felt dreams?



The rain has mingled with my tears to drown my sorrows

As the spring floods, pushed through gulleys, make washed beds that spill downhill.

The torrent sweeps away the particles of my transgressions

Leaving emptiness, a hollow shell that once your love did fill.



I watch the journey of the sun from dawn ‘til dusk and feel you

Standing by my side to view again what once your eyes beheld.

I hold against my heart the knowledge that you haunt this place

That called you, held you, kept you from me. Your blood has fed the soil.
                                                                  
                                                                               Susan Cuss