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Soul of Julia

SOUL OF JULIA

By the golden bough I watch, Julia,
through the winds of darkness.
You touch the golden leaves with your strange smile.
Where do your thoughts drift on this winter's night?
To the dark forest where there is no one to listen
but the wistful stars.
They make a magic of the thoughts you leave unsaid.
Your words with fear remain unsaid.
Forever may they soothe away my tears.
I speak, Julia, to you who try hard not to listen
to me because I am darkness
like the shadows beside you in the night.
Why do you strain to hear
the strange sounds that stream from the stars?
Unsaid thoughts are strange,
but why must we leave our thoughts unsaid?
You have a fear of the night.
The night could never harm, Julia.
The night is dark.
How can it frighten you? You do not know
because you do not listen.
I know you long to listen
to the shadows on the snow--strange
like the shadows which curl a mist of darkness
around your hair.  But your thoughts remain unsaid.
Silence is a thought unsaid, Julia.
By the golden bough, you are my Julia,
and the darkness of this night cannot destroy you.
You are clothed in the blackness like the silhouette of the night
from which awakens music and light. 
Again I listen for an answer from Julia.
Even though the night throbs
with the sadness of your strange silences
your thoughts remain unsaid.
By the golden bough, you tremble in the darkness.
The moon sends flames into that darkness.
Julia, you are like the moon which fires the stars in the night.
What between us can remain unsaid?
With every passing moment, I listen
to the snowflakes which fall in strange patterns throughout the night,
searching for you and your dark eyes.  Julia.
Life is darkness
but life is not dark enough to hide my unsaid thoughts.
Listen and you will hear the whispering sounds my shadow makes
on this strange night.

Janet Marie Bingham

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