The Rasp of Memories

I'm not sure

If it is the metallic scrape of a 
Spoon at the bottom of a bowl

Or the ominous clang against the road
Of a vital bit of machinery
Hanging loose beneath my car

But that noise
That vaguely musical abrading of metal
Is the grating note my soul sings when the memories flood in

When my thoughts drift to what might have been
My mind steers into the skid
Sparks fly upward from the undercarriage

I regret what I said

Even more, I regret what I did not say

Notes left unplayed in a song without resolution

Sit with me on the ground

Wait to speak

Wait some more

I stood in the gap
My hands open and waiting for rain

For the drought of truth to end

I longed for a word
Strained to hear a still small voice
Amongst the sounding brass and the clanging cymbals

Did I imagine the call of my name?

Did I unknowingly strike the rock and
Leave myself only the ache of seeing but not crossing over?

Sit with me on the ground

Wait to speak

Wait some more

The wind rushes past and the earth quakes
What might have been is a ghost
What I did not say is an echo

I will stand upon my watch

I will listen for the music to resolve
And I will sing a new song