2.22.2011

trumpeted

when the winds wrapped tightly around his legs
like long cat tails whipping angry and wet
he could feel the breath of death
hot on the back of his neck.

that quiet whisper
that filled his head
wouldnt soon settle quietly
on the ears of the dead
it would become the battlecry
of the siren's in the ocean deep
and trumpeted from
all the highest mountaintops
instead…

he would find no peace hidden in dim seclusion
on isle, in cave
or perched on precipice high,
he would glean no heat from the roaring fire
no warmth from the dancing flame
just a cold flat flickering light.

returning to the place he once knew
crossing spring fields
walking along the city's edge
his heart beat as loudly as the grass grew…

his memories filled the empty sidewalks
with happy faces
and happy afternoons
his mind painted the tall buildings so high
and the storefronts bright
like they were once before
like they used to be
like it was when the sky was clear
and the air wasnt full of disease.

but even the fondest memories start to crack
after too much turning around
and too much looking back
the time eventually comes when
you have to take a deep breath
and pack them away

his path was clear
but his vision blurred
the road was well marked
but his emotions tripped each step,
a day's journey turned into an eternity
and as it passed through his life
it filled the last years of his days
with struggle, sadness, and desperation
until one day...