Glass Ceiling
Glass Ceiling
Crouched here in the corner of the ceiling
watching myself – fighting to endure –
I stifle tears, for I am but his essence
growing dimmer as his color pales.
He struggles to make sense of life – in death.
Whereas I struggled to make sense of death – in life.
I watched him weep at the passing of others
who would not find time for him.
I tried to touch him, to reach him,
to let him know that we were not alone,
that we had each other. I think he felt it – once-
then pulled away with a shiver.
He – We – were so much more than memory,
so much more than tissue, and sinew, and pain.
We Were, dammit! Even now, as he struggles
to decide our fate we still – Are.
None but me have know the all of him,
his deepest fear, the enormity of his love,
his loneliness amid the crowds,
his presence among the lonely.
I have always been there for him – in spirit,
had his back, echoed his spiritual song,
directed his eyes toward the sunrise
of a troubling night’s trepidation.
We were the best of what we are
so I am saddened. Not by his imminent death,
but by the inevitable separation of
the animator from the animation.
10/12/2016
submitted to – Personification – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Lewis Raynes
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment