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Wednesday, April 20, 2016


Somewhere today
your spirit resides in the shadow
where I cannot see you
My eyes strain
to find a line on your face
that has disappeared to the place
where neither sun nor incandescence
will take me again
to the times we laughed

I think of opening the black door
only to realize
my time will come
when this chariot of flesh
will jump the ruts
sending this wisp of life
sprawling in search
of what came before

There is no laughing at memory
because it leaves me as soon
as I look away
from its frightful pages
perching me on this gleaming woe
from which I cannot be dislodged
these feathers that fail to find air
an invisible bird
in an undiscovered cavern
of the heart

Barry G. Wick

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