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