Month: June 2019

someone pulled a curtain
over the wide dome of trees
and the wind rushed in
making the forest groan

in retrospect, I should have noticed
the silence, as the air stilled
like an indrawn breath, expectant
until the world exhaled
a cache of debris, dropping
to the ground as if
the sky was discarding itself
rattling apart, piece by piece

but still, no rain
until the purpling clouds belched
a wild rumble, splitting open
and the water poured down
drenching my face

the scream of a crow
is what finally moved me
the path, a tunnel, as I ran
from wind and shadow and fear
towards the electric sky, aglow
with an arc of lightning
that reached for the river
with fingers of white fire

the time after twilight is the hardest
a long, empty space, impossible to fill
the only antidote, distraction
yet the silence finds me anyway
I’m still so broken, so concious
of my own grief/sorrow/despair

the days hold too many hours
each one a treasure of lost moments
of evenings that overflowed, bountiful
with bedtimes and grateful goodnights
a lost eternity

I ache from the empty space, once filled
sinking into bed–grateful, relieved
not to carry the heavy silence
of the given day, the gifted day

Foolish, blind, looking
towards morning
with a kind of tired hope
that tomorrow will be easier
the weight lighter
the hours, not as endless
as my distance from you