we’ve heard this before
like victims of rape are blamed
for being women
memories
what looms…
you’ve threaded your dreams
through hope’s eye of a needle
with tomorrow’s yarns
but what if they’re moth-eaten
broken by death’s slightest pull
recalling…
a spring walk
a country church
meadows brushed with wind
youth choir voices of praise
sermon short and sweet
picnic after prayers
eyes of a first love
unintentional…
these final moments
as i walk my life’s crime scene
complicity’s found
forged in fire…
ancient olive tree
planted by the hands of god
man has cut you down
to fuel fires of hubris wars
forging hate’s eternal ring
a single forget-me-not…
as a poet
i have decided
to
fade away
quite
gracefully
merging
into the woodwork
but
leaving
a rather
irritating stain
deep
into the fibers
of life
not
removable
by sanding
and
far
too costly
to replace
i absolutely
see
no need
for me
to
change
completely
because of a little thing
called
death
an unhinged treasure…
the old door’s now gone
for years kept out the cold winds
sorely missed these days
