Return to Peace
The dice are cast. You watch them
As they tumble slowly away, into the swale
Where you rush to search for them.
But as you push away the sharp blades
There are only stones, wiped clean of numbers,
Your compass obliterated by the salt tears
Of the stars which rain like tiny feathers at night
But contain the weight of elephants and
Burden the soul with unfinished dreams
And feelings too vast to be encompassed
In flesh and skin and bone and sinew,
So break the bonds of gravity and soar
To where, in the formless void,
The mind’s corrosive static slowly dims,
Soft spoken syllables, faint music of a laugh,
The essence of a presence, though unseen,
Float through the ether, falling like kisses
On that inner ear of memory, and birds
Trill echoes to soothe the heart.
Copyright © Barbara Peckham | Year Posted 2021
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