I Am

“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.

Lonely Walk

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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.

 

 

Voyageur

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

Lost Souls

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

Duality

 

 

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