Friday, September 9, 2011

A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011

Ghosts, Come Gather (Sing Your Grey Songs)

Wind at my back
Haunting a past
I no longer hear

Now with her (my love)
In my life.

Dead spirits,
You hold no more sway
As I hurtle on across
This expanding plain

Pointed toward a new beginning
And inevitably on to the end.

Sighs. Whispers. Screams.

What I cannot hear is that which
invites reverie, contemplation.

Come gather around this fire
I have built purely from will
And sing your grey songs.

Though I can no longer hear them,
I am always listening

To the silence, to her (my love),
To the stories my own blood carries

To the end.

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