of absent tears

March 8, 2009 at 9:00 am Leave a comment

of absent tears and tears

echoed, your face
yet haunts me, thirty
years later.
i shall not touch
you again, ever; i wouldn’t

know you, were i
to pass you in the street.
no, i’ve not
“had knowledge of you”

but i wake at nights
throat rusty and voice a whisper

trying to say
what i cannot recall (i
naught else, at times)
mumbling, repeating endlessly
(what i cannot say):

your name.
absolutely new, tonight.  The feeling is correct, to me; I’ve no idea if the words are.  And the dreams, to be honest, are of that war and my part in it, adding my opinion and having it listened to–and in the process gaining a lifelong fright.  And not that I’ve slept yet tonight, mainly because of the pain.  And surely the youngster to whom the poem is dedicated is obvious.

[in this venue, unobvious, and the youngster is just past her twenties]

Entry filed under: poetry, psychology.

poem: “koan” unauthored graffiti: new poetry

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