Memories stream by as if a silent movie
played itself in technicolor bands of
a kaleidoscopic afterview. I wonder
why we choose to throw
so many memories away.
Violently, waves were tossed upon the
granite cliffs that loomed above the many
grains of sand, that in the end would wear
them down to size. Winds howled in an
awesome agony of used to be. And there
he stayed as time unbound itself from
all those chains of linearity.
He moved, but in the same old ways,
seeking for a home he'd yet to find;
emotions blinding eyes as if some
errant power shrouded all he knew
of love that's true. He could not see
her standing there, nor did he know
the moment when she turned and
He stumbled in the darkness of a cave
that had become his haunting loneliness;
visited by nothing much at all. Distant
pain was whispering his name. Music
played, arising from a timeless time
that seemed much more than any other
memory he held.
Moist, he wiped his hand across those
reddened eyes that bled a salty-scented
sweat as realization just began to dawn -
unwanted, inescapable and real - for she
was gone. Then sirens screamed his agony,
not he; for still he clung to all those staid and
stoic men's beliefs, that said to be a man meant
never showing any trace of vulnerability.
Thundering, the waves began to roll into
the cave where he now dwelt, as he stared
into the past without a blink of recognition.
A sigh, a gasp - he nearly choked upon those
cries still unexpressed; pushing it all back
and down again, even as his guts were
twisted into shapes of snakes that battled
with each other, striking out in an intent
of murderous villainy. Venomous, this
sweat began to burn through every pore.
Silently, the day broke in again, glancing
off the roiling waters gathering round his
feet. Startled by its salient rise, he knew
he had to move again, this time without
a plan or destination; knowing only that
the very powers of this life had played
him for a fool. Heavily, he moved toward
one clear space where he might breathe
in an aridity of crackling fields of wheat
that lay, unchanged until another harvest
came to be.
Glassy-eyed, he did not spy that misty
shape illumining a field of wildflowers
blowing in the breeze not far away.
'Twas then she knew the time had
come - to seek love in the freedom
that the skies would always bring.
And so she flew into those ever-
opening shades of blue again...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...