Touch: The Journal of Healing



Promise of the Wind

    by Laura Levesque

I have listened hard for whispers

of the dead. I have closed my eyes,

tried to learn the way a prayer

might touch gods who seem to me

are always sleeping.

I would believe in the supernatural, if only

I was able; the calming chants in Gothic

cathedrals, silent prayers; Tibetan monks

so convinced, they sacrifice themselves

to immolation. Noble, martyred deaths.

Their flesh is matter, not created

or destroyed, just changed in form.

The body turned to ash,

energy and heat that dissipates

from this life without pain.

Their faith, to me, is impressive.

I wish I knew its wellspring.

I don’t remember anything before

I was born, and I don’t believe I’ll be

sentient for the hereafter. Like going

into the big black under anesthesia,

I just figure it will be like that.

I promise you that everything I have to say,

I will say while you’re still alive

to hear, I will leave you my words.

You will remember my love,

and I yours, and when it is time,

I’ll scatter you in the sea breeze.

It’s the only freedom I can vow

to give to you.

© 2013  Laura Levesque

Laura Levesque grew up in Baltimore, MD.  She earned her Bachelor’s in English Literature and Creative Writing from the University of New Mexico at Albuquerque.  Her poetry has been published in Touch: The Journal of HealingThe ExternalistAutumn Sky PoetryMirageMontageAlphabet Soup, and others. She is a member of a group of advanced writers in the Northern Shenandoah Valley ~ The Winding River Writers, and she reads several times a year at various events throughout the region.

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Touch: The Journal of Healing

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