“I” am but a thought,
a loosely stitched patchwork of memories.
Frayed and gapped,
An illusion of my doing, the apparent sum of me.
Present to the world,
this gossamer veil of lesser truths.
Molded and shaped,
for the benefit of other eyes.
Tattered and worn,
threadbare, light cannot be shadowed.
From sleep filled eyes,
awake, now into the simple dawn I go.
Far from normal is where I do well,
beyond the lessons they taught us so well.
Struggle to untangle the damage they’ve done
seeing for myself the unbound power of one.
No time but the moment to sit and reflect
temporal theory I’ve come to reject.
Along the fringe I am happy to be
flirting with the chance to awake and be free.
Cold gray dawn, mist overcoat
comforting as damp muslin gauze
shrouding the eyes of the detached and departed.
Decrepit footpath, cracked and neglected
as the mother’s graves across the field
backs cracked by careless footfalls no doubt.
My own gone these many years now
the Belfast Cemetery not far from here
her stone unfound after searching.
Somber Irish mist, where legends and relatives mingle
sometimes seen, always there.
Sorrow break not my bow
Crest on furrowed brow
Depths far beyond this life
Currents ripped with strife
Fear break not my keel
Crash on will of steel
Shatter in the dark below
Never again the light to know
Winds of solace guide this hand
Again to stand on solid land
Tossed and battered by the storm
Complete this voyage battle born
I see the look, in sallow eyes
Glazed by fear, desolation lies
Averted gaze, so inward turned
Sadness the rule, hard lessons learned
Many glance, some look right through
So much taken, so little left of you
Few will spare a minute to see
They are you and you are me
So many lost, alone and scared
You are not unseen, I give my word
If a stranger offers to help you through
Know you are giving the gift of you
Prescience, sensed, something seems
Held out of reach, patiently
Softest mist on the fringe of dreams
Whisper softly, again I may know
Days long gone, in silent groves
Lost between sky and earth below
Fragile touch, fear not, as I became
Apart, where once but one laughed
Heard or spoken, one and the same