Monday, 15 August 2016

The many textures of absence

absence is a toothache
the tongue, a snake searching for prey

absence is a severed limb
echoing the intent of things it once did

absence is a flower
all petals fallen, the bud burnt, bowed and defeated

In these days of absence
I have become a tired river, I meander,
curl back on words and thoughts,
remember old cliffs and rocks,
the cover of cool places lost
as the sun discovers a way to expose me again

I have begun to sleep
while standing, while talking
while laughing at the day to day excuses
of how we pass the time while watching the slow fade
of memories that become absent
because they can no longer accumulate

like the time my father died and I realized
I would never hear his voice
never again see him smile
nor know the touch of his hand
or the gentle rise of his right eyebrow

like the earth stranded beneath the sun
baked, fried, defeated
and the clouds remain absent
and the only shade
is in the heart of the deep cracks that split me apart
even as I wait

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