This haze of smoke
Never seems to clear,
This constant fog
We hold so dear.
Mists to rain
Before the sun,
The sun is next –
The sun is done.
A walk in the sunshine
On the beach,
A walk there
At night, where
Noisy lights
Can’t reach.
The haze returns
So bittersweet…
Travels in darkness
With constant tread,
The knell displaced
Awakes the dead.
Small feet move
And aren’t heard
Silence remains…

Silence the dirge.

Written on Mother’s Day, 1996