by Susan Haifleigh
I no longer recognize the language
although I spoke it for a thousand years
it lives in my body deep in the ganglia
whispering instructions received in dreams.
I glimpse it in the stones at the bend
in the river as the light refracts
catching in colorful spray playing
a familiar melody that remains
just out of reach.
I glimpse it on a summer evening
as the sky slowly turns down its sheets
and the stars appear one by one
to usher away the day.
This language of ancients
floats back to me on the backs of fireflies
appearing and disappearing
as if to remind just because you can’t see
something doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
Susan Haifleigh’s work is published in “Story Medicine,” “The Closed Eye Open” and “Beyond Words.” She recently received two 2nd place awards in the “Peninsula Poets Contest.” Susan lives in Northville, Michigan.