Sunday, November 18, 2012



Here amid the ghosts
                        and scattered leaves
            I watch
            as shards of my life
            flitter in the warm wind
            softly to heaven
                        and vanish

Taking with them what remains of me.

I have stomped on the ashes
I have scattered the bones
I have ground the remains beneath my heel
                        until nothing is left but
                        empty and silent
                        my soul
                        empty and silent
Ready for the next journey,
            the next odyssey.

These silver shards, razor sharp,
            flicker on the breeze
            in the twilight
            drifting, fluttering, going
            lost and fragmented dreams go.

If I could capture just one of them,
hold it in my open palm one instant,
and withstand the pain
as it slices my hand to the bone
            (as it will inevitably do because
            it must),
bloody and strafed,
            my hand would hold
            for that one moment
            my life,
            I might once more understand.

But I cannot.

In the thickening evening,
the last glistening shards meander skyward,
and I turn,
I who have created them by destroying myself,
and join the other ghosts
            in the endless

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