An old man walks in the backyard
as my eyes sit in the front porch
gazing into a dark beyond,
It is hard to tell what he searches for,
I cannot see the tides in a sea of smoke
burning down this house
This is probably his story
pocketed and sewen with my words,
His heart shivers under the needle
of a slowly dissolving night
I want to wake up and lead him
through the advent of misery
delayed upon him,by decades
But it is better to just look away
as my eyes sit in the front porch
gazing into a dark beyond,
It is hard to tell what he searches for,
I cannot see the tides in a sea of smoke
burning down this house
This is probably his story
pocketed and sewen with my words,
His heart shivers under the needle
of a slowly dissolving night
I want to wake up and lead him
through the advent of misery
delayed upon him,by decades
But it is better to just look away
If only we could write each other's story! But there will be no seam between my lifeline and yours. Each will fray, ravel and sow what he ought...no more, no less. Your needle shivers nothing that wasn't already about to quake.
ReplyDeleteAnd of course I just made that up, as if I KNOW something! Humph! Beautiful poem Manik.
Annie,
ReplyDeleteWhen have we ever KNOWN anything.right? it is a farm...and we aren't the ones growing...take care dear friend
is it better
ReplyDeleteor only easier
to look away?
xo
erin
erin,
ReplyDeleteeasier for us ...better in the larger scheme of things we don't understand and will fail to till the end