I hated leaving,
but twas learned
behavior,
from abuse years
and death
teaching
over the time that passed,
people in the end,
wander away,
and honestly,
I did not blame you
for your goings and comings,
but knew always twas a-comin,
sometimes so harshly,
swiftly,
I staggered backward,
two hundred breaths or so,
at such a wretched sight.
So I sighed,
shut up,
shut down,
spent hours,
most unfortunate,
re-playing tragedies,
looking out windows,
pubs, coffee shops,
car doors,
through blinds
and third eyes,
looking upward,
craving to find
some random
reason to carry on,
carrying the weight
of such a heavy earth
and all her woes.
But I don’t know,
I did indeed seem to catch
a gleam of terrific majesty,
in the snakey bright green color
the trees turn,
after a rain,
set against a grey haunted sky.
In pots of tea
between the best of friends,
laughter of little kids,
big kids,
people,
laughter at all,
despite such sorrows
found in the tears
of a woman
losing her children.
There was greatness
in acts of pleasure,
some reckless but gentle
touches,
brushing souls
against each other,
ever so lightly,
for just an instant,
in cigarettes puffed
down boxcar alleyways,
faces buried in soft pillows
to rest your weary
minds a moment,
life was a
bleeding angel and
we were lucky to listen in
on the magic.
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