Saturday, August 8, 2009

Dreams II

I walk off a bus homebound.
The western draft blows to meet the east

Through where my heart should beat.

Hot water drums on a weary body,
Echoing in my ears and in the empty.
With forgotten lyrics on the lips

I hum with my befriended silence.

I look at my hands, fledged well-bred,
The same hands from which I've freed
Many that mattered. Afar,

I hear a little voice, giving a prayer.

Keep not your dreams the way you do memories.
Dismiss not the shriek of a girl there once was.
Ignore not the question,
A noise of disturbance, yet of salvation.

No comments:

Post a Comment