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New | Old by Rachel Macklin
I made a new quill
from an old feather
that was hugging the sill
of my attic window;
a memento of many moons ago
when I had wings.
I bend the pen to paper,
scratching humble shapes in indigo.
Yet, with each word,
the letters lift,
as if elevated by echoes
of long-lost flight.
I raise a hand to fetch them back
before they float away.
Undaunted, they evade pursuit
to flit about my wrist,
and flutter up my sleeve,
the cursive catching at my collar.
“You were the sun and sky,”
they murmur, lingering at my neck.
“Do you remember?”
They travel down my spine
to tickle the silver seams
that still ache when it storms.
For how could I forget?
I was immortal once.
I leapt from glittering mountains
and raced eagles to their nests.
I conjured thunder and lightning,
and dwelt within the blissful infinite.
But time is a sword with two edges,
And loss upon loss cuts deep.
Caressed by bodies doomed to dust.
Failed by human frailty.
Buried by the weight
of long goodbyes.
And then came you.
First found on a rain-soaked courtyard,
explaining relativity
to an enraptured audience;
drops dancing on your umbrella.
Shy smiles become stolen moments,
until I fly away.
Sighted second on a battlefield:
the scholar turned soldier,
with a rifle in your hand
and terror in your heart.
I cannot bear your bloodshed,
so I flee to safer heights.
The third observed
through the stained-glass window
of a small provincial chapel.
Your Sunday best; she’s dressed in ivory.
You vow to love and cherish her.
I promise to forget.
The fourth foretold by illness:
she leaves you far too soon.
I watch your slow walk
toward a new grave,
following a coffin
covered in ivory roses.
Later, fifth and final,
I knock at your front door.
You step into the starlight,
and I wrap you in my wings;
no more apart, two beings bound
by time and bitter grief.
Now here I sit:
an old god,
with a new quill,
writing words that fly on phantom feathers.
A beautiful eulogy
to the love of all my lifetimes.
Though you went first,
I’d never change
my choice to wither with you.