On the last day

I saw you ascend a well-trodden path

Many privileged suns in tow, illuminating each step

For the last time

As I recount this dear scene

A shadow of uncertainty overwhelms reason

Of all the days that we could have met

The crossroad at Thebes, the many places

Did you really stand before me then?

I imagined that you had things to say

And hearts did leap as you stopped to speak

An inevitable, impossible moment

Still souls swarmed by, passing oblivious

Around the concrete island that we had imposed

Musing upon enlightened answers

She passed by oblivious and preoccupied like all the rest

Pupils did contract to reveal a sense of your awakening

I am unable to forget the split-second memory

Of brown-rimmed irises coming alive

I read the thoughts that danced upon your retinas

The overtures that you would very soon make

Or perhaps, joy to her, had already made

Confirmation that another walks in the path of privileged suns

Joy to me, you could not call her name

And joy to me, she did not spell the end

Of our sweet discourse.

Natasha Haidar © 2004