If I could grasp the nature of the loss, <br />then I might plan a journey and a search. <br />My emissary dreams fly back, across <br />a length of years and lands, and lightly perch <br />on a remembered twig and scan the past. <br />It may have been a face, a place, a key, <br />a rosy bit of feldspar, or a last <br />unspotted page of childhood diary. <br />I only know I lost beside a river <br />a shred of life my quiet labors need. <br />Bird-thoughts and I have long tried to discover <br />something elusive as a mustard seed. <br />It could be that one day the river stole <br />and carried to the endless sea my soul.<br /><br />Agnes Clark<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blemished-memory/
