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I return each year to make my peace
I wade through  quilts of grass and stone
Beside the  mounds, of cold damp earth
And pray it's true.......that angels hear
Will gather 'round to listen, now

I need to know that somewhere there
is someone close, to feel my breath
To hear the words I've left unsaid
or accolades I should have shared

But words, too late, I've kept unspoken
inaudible,  are broken tears
and with regret, I will come
to spread transparent words around

I should have sung them long ago
Toss them like leaves, so you would know
to catch them like the leaves of fall...
And gently you would gather them 
to keep them for your heart to own

Through the years I've held regret
From things suppressed that froze my tongue 
And with regret, words linger yet, 
Still hovering to weigh me down

---------------------------
For Catie's Contest: "No More Masks"    
Inspired by a poem by Angelina W. Grimke 

The Eyes of My Regret

Always at dusk, the same tearless experience, 
The same dragging of feet up the same well-worn path 
To the same well-worn rock; 
The same crimson or gold dropping away of the sun 
The same tints, - rose, saffron, violet, lavender, grey 
Meeting, mingling, mixing mistily; 
Before me the same blue black cedar rising jaggedly to 
a point; 
Over it, the same slow unlidding of twin stars, 
Two eyes, unfathomable, soul-searing, 
Watching, watching, watching me; 
The same two eyes that draw me forth, against my will 
dusk after dusk; 
The same two eyes that keep me sitting late into the 
night, chin on knees 
Keep me there lonely, rigid, tearless, numbly 
miserable - 
The eyes of my Regret.

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