Saturday, January 31, 2009

New Poem: Loss


We never ask for the trial,
the blood on the skin
or the darkness in our soul,

and yet it comes, seeks us
out and infuses our life
with chaos, a loss of balance

that leaves us grasping
for meaning, for any tendrils
that carry something more

than emptiness, than loneliness,
a raven in the sky, or maybe
some old oak, a sense that we

are not forsaken, not left to our own
skills, not dependent on anyone
else to fill these fragile shadowy holes

Post a Comment