Poetry: Can it Last?

by Brana Dane
Brana Dane Poem

Can it last?

I reach out my hand to you but, 
Eyes slowly open,
and I see only fog. 
Moist mist drifting towards me, 
Levitating above the bog. 
How long has it been? 
Remote on this island 
I’m reminded of my intentions 
before. 
It came to this 
Waiting, watching, dead-awake
existence.
Is it right to revisit a time past? 
The Spring just last –
energy and air were made 
new, vivid and defined. 
Clean.
Is this how it’s meant to be?
Piercing sharp as an iceberg
Out of place
this hot sticky Misty Bog
through my current floating fog 
I do recall, 
Gazing up to the dark sky 
in amazement. 
Down at the white ground 
in shock.
The snow hasn’t melted yet? 
A deathless rebirth. 
Can it last?

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