The moment before, he knew.
She knew it, too—but she didn’t know
What it meant.
He had spent all he had in love
And in time—
For time is all we have to spend—
Not knowing that one second would turn into
Years.
The moment before, he felt.
She felt it, too, but it was in her mind—
What it meant.
Dripping with memories, mundane,
Like coffee brewing slowly—
For love steeps one drop at a time—
Her daydreams were painted in
Love.
The moment before, he released.
She released, too, but she didn’t expect
What it meant.
Embracing and letting go, to embrace again,
Was like brushing her teeth—
For some rituals cleanse even as they return—
He knew her expectation and knew he would
Fail.
In the moment, he could smell her.
She could smell her, too—and she knew
What it meant.
He started a fire between his head
And his heart—
For the heart stokes the kindling the mind provides—
But the embers burned deeper than he
Expected.
In the moment, he could see the glow.
She could see it, too, and she knew
What it meant.
The lingering warmth of his hand on her back
Felt like ice—
For ice signals death—
The frigidity was new but not exactly
New.
In the moment, his conscience writhed.
She writhed a little, too, and she knew
What it meant.
His goodbye lingered near,
Like a rattling snake—
For snakes wait, and then they strike—
And she stiffened her heart, bracing for
The end.
The moment was gone. The seconds counted
And done.
The hem of her gown swished away;
His countenance melted
Like fire melts ice,
And ice turns to water,
And fire boils it all to steam.
The end was the beginning.
The beginning was now.
He sat on the ground.
He looked to the sky.
The moon turned out its lamp—
And he knew what it meant.
© Jill Szoo Wilson, 2025
Tag: Love poetry
Poem: She Spoke Of Love
A moment before, floating in the sun
My love beside me
Warm and glowing
Her eyes ablaze with rays of light
Her darkness concealed in
Illumination.
A moment before, she spoke of love
My friend beside me
Kind and gentle
Her smile warmed but burned
Her face like wax
Melting.
I wanted to see my love through the brightness of stars
The universe brought low and waiting
Swirling about my hands and mind
Becoming one with all that breathes
And pants
And lives
And dies
A moment before, I removed my gloves
My fire beside me
Trembling and stiff
Her fingers felt but did not touch
Her hand in mine only
Embers.
A moment before, she swallowed words
My pain beside me
Inflamed and suffering
Her silence thickened in my throat
Her Nothing choked
Suffocating.
I wanted to see my love through the brightness of stars
The universe brought low and waiting
Wrapping my cold in warmth
Like a child crying
But hopeful
But calming
But safe
A moment before, the snow dropped down
My hope beside me
Present and vacant
Her ruffled dress covered with water
Her boots muddied with
Goodbye.
© Jill Szoo Wilson, 2015
Poem: Moonlight We
The sun grows hours
Then burns them dry
Like
Tumbleweeds
Blow by the days
And we
The cattle drivers
Saddle the minutes
And ride them,
Guide them from atop
Their prickly backs.
The Sunlight We
Strap on our shoes
Tattered at the soles
To tread
A line
Publicly defined by
The rules of
Marketplace
And who the other
We’s expect us all
To be.
Astride atop
Rolling ticks and tocks
And traveling
Through noon time
Crowds of We
Is She—
An explorer whose eyes
Are lifted
Toward the sky
Inside a sea of eyes
Seeing same.
The busy pavement
Vibrates with progress
As defined
By hand held devices
That shine
In daytime rays
And ricochet
Blinding
The gaze
Of the masked We
Stumbling at a gallop’s pace.
But she—
She sees.
She sees what is real
In the moment defined
Not confined by
What she should
Why she ought or
Questioning
Why she would
She rides the time
And feels the warmth
Of the sun instead of
Using it for light.
Reflection of the sun can be seen everywhere.
Embracing now
A give and take
Of new and ideas
And what does it mean
She offers herself
To the questions
That rise
Dwells in the
Wonder
Of wandering
Free.
And he—
He sees.
Along the trail
Sprawling on every side
Is one—
A He—
Who rides his own
Tumbleweed time
Carrying boredom
Wrapped in
Discontent
Searching for what
Is relevant.
His eyes wide open
Heart behind a shield
He journeys
With a purpose
Gone cold
Like a campfire
Dwindling—
He rubs his hands together
Above reasons
That fail
To keep him warm.
Until the moment
Just one moment
He
Amidst a thousand eyes
Sees
She
The only she
In a sea of
We
Whose awareness
Pierces the shield of his own.
No words exchanged—
Not yet—
But the moment is frozen still
The sun holds its place
And reveals
Details of her face
As though
The opulent
Fiery star above
Is painting
Something new.
“Hello,”
Says she and
“Hello,”
Says he and the sea of
We begins to roar
Once again.
He asks,
“Can you travel
This way?
If only
Today?”
He smiles—
Not only his lips
But eyes brightly
Joining as
His hands begin to warm.
She accepts
His invitation,
“I will come
Your way
Let’s not delay
The sun will set into night.”
Two journeys become
One moonlight We
As the day stumbles
Behind the moon—
The moon that stops
The growth of time
Replacing stars
For minutes
And silence for sound
When all around
Disappears
Into a single
You.
© Jill Szoo Wilson, 2023
Read more by Jill Szoo Wilson on Substack.
Necessary Whispers 