Am I being shown?
I am being told to look
Here, there, not over there
Do not look everywhere
Out of the corner of my eye I see
Questions surrounding me.
Questions I would have not known before,
Had I kept my eyes straight
And not wanted to know more.
In the darkened forest of
Those below and those above,
Followed I am through the dead and rustling leaves.
Summer sun or autumn light?
All but forgotten where I might
Have awoken in the midst of those lost trees.
My only clue is the warm
Of the breeze that around me swarms.
Here something whispers: “Winter is not far.”.
There’s a break in the canopy
That offers no new sight to see,
Only the grey that stretches on and on and on.
My steps carry me no farther
The wind carries words from afar, her
Messages are seldom those of comfort, much less of wisdom.
Raindrops and a cold now herald
The days end; my easy path turned feral.
Just how cold and wet remains for me to be seen.
No shelter, no end, no rest,
I wander on, and do my best,
To stay on a straight path, and not become more lost.
With daylight now expired
I sit, my eyes so tired,
And hope when I awaken that the world will be a different place.
I awake without opening my eyes
I’ll not do so voluntarily, something else must pry,
For the rustling of leaves tells me something I ought not to hear.
Standing up and pushing on,
I tread paths where nothing belongs,
And an echo of a whisper repeats: “Winter is not far.”
Posted in From the shadows
Tagged awake, dark, echo, eye, forest, leaf, leaves, path, poem, poetry, rest, tree, whisper, winter
If only tomorrow would fail to come
And this burden from her chest were lifted,
There was no end, this day were simply done,
This were the number of her days gifted.
There was sleep she sought, and the sleep sought her,
Flattering, that the void felt incomplete.
Eternity and nothing now a blur,
Like the moment a dog dies in the street.
She sits there and thinks and opens her eyes,
And stares at the next soul who might save hers.
So many moments, this too passes by,
What if she’s made to go on as a curse?
Unique. Never again, never before,
She tries to hide behind an open door.
Posted in Personal, Sonnets
Tagged die, dog, door, eye, fail, hide, ooen, poem, poetry, she, sit, sonnet, soul, think, tomorrow, unique, void
The sun is too bright for these tired eyes,
This mind too tired for the whys.
An explanation is another day in the sun,
With all this stargazing I long to be done.
Chasing clouds profits nothing but broken dreams.
There’s no shade in a desert stretching as far as the eye can see.
Venturing across hot sands to find more stable bedrock,
To find a place where the mirage is not.
Posted in Moving Forward
Tagged bedrock, bright, desert, dream, eye, mind, poem, poetry, profit, sand, stargaze, sun, tired, venture, why
I had died atop a wall and my grave found me smiling.
I died not from the fall, but in the change of dying.
Form to form, now not the same.
As one who sleeps through winter
No snow on my eyes fallen,
As in death there is no winner.
Through seasons of my body? No,
Through seasons of my soul.
My former self has died, but I
Shall live on or so I’m told.
Posted in Personal
Tagged body, change, die, eye, Fall, live, poetry, season, sleep, soul, wall, winner, winter
Another sunrise, another day
Another chance to stay and say,
One more noon passes by
One more sunset to catch her eye.
She sees the road, the narrow path beyond,
It is just the same as any other dawn.
She wakes from sleep, though no rest found.
Most nights are spent dreaming
Of fears, of paralyzing past.
Memories through the years abound,
But not so many she would like to last.
The sun has set after a day of reviewing these,
She wonders if tonight is the night that she will find peace.
Posted in From the shadows
Tagged day, eye, memory, night, noon, paralysis, path, peace, poetry, sleep, sunrise, sunset, wonder
She holds the eye that freeze time.
She chastises cold and space and time.
While the world sleeps and passes by,
She stands in snow, under quiet sky.
As for the eye that she holds,
For now it shall remain closed.
Until the moment it opens and,
A moment lost, then held in hand.
Dedicated to my friend Carole D.