Wakings

Wakings1_resize

The mockingbird’s song
clinks and slides against the glass,
rebuffed
by retreat
into each cloistered night.
Peace lurks like a ghost
in shrouded
corners of light.

Tears shatter like delicate shells
left behind
by strange, liquid creatures
now gone to ground.
Mornings will come
in scattered wisps of light,
fitful gatherings
of scrap.

No hands
will take flesh from the darkness,
shyly uniting fingers
in one graceful
move.
No dreams will serve to merge
these wakings,
these shards expelled at dawn,
disconnected,
alone.

18 thoughts on “Wakings

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s