In quiet, solitary places

Remembering at once, the faces

Of people whose rhetoric graces

Have mattered once, and then their traces

Appear in memory, their cases:

Still silent, live between these spaces.

I stumble hurriedly on matters

That in expedience of patterns

Regain importance: futile battles.

And in the moment un-re-linked

I miss and make these thoughts, rebuilt:

I miss, as thoughts that have appealed

To conscious memory, regain the unrevealed.

In quiet, solitary places

I lack the strength to see the faces

Whose solemn bondage to these places

Retain all those soft-spoken phrases

Rebuilt by my, much fainter, graces.

But in that moment of new birthing

When Dawn of Hope retains its worthing,

I joyously relive the traces

Of what regained I, of these faces.