A latent thought evokes a memory
Pieces of mental mist combine
Their form abstract concrete
Yesterday’s stare back at me
Their eyes radiate like a kaleidoscope
Dancing lights reveal answers
Their questions long lost in time
I long to draw them into my mind
Consciousness doesn’t quell unrest
What did I miss only lingers on
What material is one carved?
Flimsy clumps or rigid stone
Upon whose hand creates an image
Or does the image guide the hand?
Does the path carve the being?
Like a river chewing at land
Maybe wind and ice digging canyons
Are we the leftovers or the soul?
Is the space what we fill?
Or are we what remains?
Why did they carve us to begin with
Almost has a sister named if. The pair of little monsters run around teasing the world. As only the six to eight year old can understand, they mean not the harm they cause.
They play tag with the unsuspecting. A glimpse of her curling hair, maybe a thought of what color his ball cap was remains with you. Your thoughts jump the rail like a commuter train on the evening news. You are left bewildered to what happened. But as it was nothing really. It disappears into ether.
If has a brother, and he’s right outside your door. The chill of a sudden breeze. The flash of light off in the distance. He’s there waiting. And you can think about what it was… Almost
Who does one confess too?
Are my trespasses severe?
Does victim or perpetrator decide?
What if it was incidental.
Is it ever incidental?
Are thoughts hijacking actions?
Maybe I was unwittingly…
Swirling ghosts of logic rise
Passionate defences whisk them away
I’m a good person..I think
I must be afterall
Doubt wears any executioners hood
Shadows fill noisy jury boxes
Quietness poses as innocence
There’s a mistake here, I know
Calm is missing, as pulses race
Fear vacates my confession
I fall back from atonement
Question of the need
or the want to confess
Anger mushrooms above you
Lava could not be less endearing
Your cape of shards of glass
Dart filled glares and glances
Hostility is your breath
Isolation your destination
Little whisper calls
A flash in the eyes
Nervous energy sparks
It’s the smell of hope
Taste of salt from the beach
Memories make clay of thoughts
Churning inside reaching for daylight
The touch of possible
Stirs lost sensations
Eyes delve for images
Time wisps away from now
Sepia shades of what was once
Crayons outline what could have been
If’s and Why’s dance in circles
Wants and needs choose next colors
Still the whispers persist
Distant dreams vividly wave like flags
Crying out to remind you
Here isn’t a destination but a passage
Faint memories of yesterday
Desperately trying to awaken you
From the sleep we call living
“He was such a shallow man. Always try to show he had risen above hi snake like personality. Glad to see you succumb to illness.” Tina kicks dirt into the open grave. Her pale thin face sneaks a peek at the five other mourners. “It’s go to see you in the hole but it should be much further. I’d put you below Hell. Maybe that’s deep enough.”
Tina fakes a dab at her eyes. “They came just to be sure you’re dead also!”
Her mind weaves circles. The symbols are always there. She wipes her brow and closes her eyes.
The street is far more crowded than she thought it should be. Her fingers lightly squeeze a faded rose in her right hand. A insignificant scent drifts away. Much like Dawn as she finds a bench to hide on.
The city is a curious mystery. Nothing in Coldwater could prepare for the rush and bustle of people and more people. The masses hold a face that is there for her. It was foretold. The circle will be unbroken. Destiny and a purpose awaits her.
Her eyes strip away the faces from the crowd. His dark eyes and hair need to be here. Her soul demands it. Morning melts into afternoon but the faces never change.
She lifts up her backpack and thinks of a place to go. Still the circles are everywhere. She knows he is close.
Distant winds whisper
Quaking branches sing
Green creeps yellow
Cobalt skies appear
Morning chills tease
Autumn is here
“Is there not one crumb of dignity within you?” Her hectic voice screeching.
He barely lifts his head.
Which just enrages her more.
“Nothing to say, huh?” She snaps
Her left hand suddenly rummage within her purse.
Two shots ring out.
A figure covered in cloth falls