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Embers in the After Glow
In the ashes of silence spent,
cinders glow, tattooing the scene.
Even when I look away
the after-glow is still there,
with scars of burns that won't heal.
The after-glow sears into the days ahead
with a red-hot branding iron
scorching the future
with cries of regret,
and the aftermath
of lies unforgotten,
errors unforgiven.
I close the door,
close my eyes
but the smoke knows the cracks,
knows the way to stain
my eyelids with
embers glowing
bright orange-red.
After-embers that haunt
my sleep, memories and dreams
with flickers, sparkles and taunts.
The afters glowed in the rafters
above my bed.
After the door slammed shut.
After your departing shouts.
After your last goodbyes.
After the raging fire,
you started and stoked,
to roaring fierce flames,
and black billowing smoke,
rendered all what we had,
to gray and white ashes.
With our futures branded
with the afters
in which the embers glowed.
Copyright ©
John Anderson
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