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.

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