Hold Back
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An
Escarpment of memories
Distills in form
A different layered light
Before the storm.
I have visited vagaries
Of such places where,
Measuring worlds and
Matching faces
Upon the inward surface
Of a glassy eye
May bring me tears to cry.
To hold them from escape
I try,
But I,
Cannot be their jailer,
Stand without argument,
A drunken sailor.
Leaning on rebuke, watching them
In stronger currents,
Drawing torrents of futile resistance
Until their vision gone.
So too,
My silent shout.
Copyright © Vernon Witmer | Year Posted 2021
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