Keeping the dark away

We look out the window

Out, away from our shining light

Out, into the pining night

that draws uneven breath

The night is pitch, utter,

complete in its darkness

that hurries away when

stray light flickers on, and then

burns a soft scar

of ash, as a star

does when it streaks

across an empty sky.

Silence: she links arms,

with the night. Wily,

Their charms, slyly,

They steal past us-the bright and happy.

Who sit, in rising smoke

and laugh in the noise

that cascades around

the room. The music, the sound

Tremble when the thought

of night crawls out, and is caught

in the minds, and eyes of those

once laughing, once talking.

For who, I wonder, staring

at the black, darkening eyes,

Can flee the dizzying cries

Of a beckoning night.

So we huddle together,

to find an endless light

in some warmth that glows

as tears spill, and wine flows

Echoes of laughter in the warmth

Caught among the wires, she fell,
Her face kissing the grass that
grew lazily in the brown mud

Their giggles fell over the empty
garden, like the morning rain that
had poured hurriedly before the
sun had shone a deep yellow

Their footsteps stole across the
Meditating Grasshopper's still leaf,
and leaped over the Angry Frog's puddle,
as they fled the chasing wrath of their mother
who ran, her hair pouring down her face and
catching on the rim of her purple glasses
that glared sharply in the morning light.

On and on they ran towards the sun.
On and on she ran after them,
her ladle swinging angrily in the air,
striking surprised dragonflies that
zipped about in fumbles and stutters.

Suddenly, her footsteps stopped,
the mud beneath her feet crumbled weakly.

Their heads flipped around, their hair
windswept, pointing back, in her direction.
They slid to a stop and trudged back,
towards their mother, who drew them in
with a lilting smile that hurried them
towards her warmth, away from the
Rising sun spewing yellow into the sky.

Their laughs and footsteps now
Bounced across the muddy, green meadow,
lifting yellow butterflies up from the
Long grass, gushing past a lonely
Stream where little birds fed and flew.

I wave to them from near the stream,
they smile and wave to me, as their
feet now skip together, over grass and
Grasshopper, away from the sunny field,
and into their warm home.

Buried

The walls around me had turned the dull yellow of a windy winter morning. I let the dullness wrap herself around me. I shut my eyes to the sounds of laughs that had long since peeled away from the aging wall. I couldn’t smile, even though the image I saw in my mind was of a little girl laughing and running. Dim walls trembled under the weight of her memory. I tried to pat away the white that the crumbling wall had smeared on me. I left clouds of white swirling helplessly in the empty room. Black and grey cobwebs huddled together in the cold corners. The image was recurrent, and I wondered where to bury it. I looked around the emptiness. The house had been stripped clean of all living thoughts. The walls and floors writhed in the echoes of those who had lived, and those who had died, and those who had abandoned memories.

I shut the door behind me as I walked out of the room, out into the greying hall. It swung, without a whisper, into place. I let my feet land in the wiry webs of all things forgotten. My feet grew tired of the resistance and yearned to collapse under my weight on the dust ridden floor.

Talk to me, I thought to the blackening brown dust that lay in semi-formed spirals on the floor. They scattered under the gush of my warm breath. I wished to be forgotten like the laugh and lies, like the secrets and whispers of a past that had allowed itself to be forgotten and stowed away by the overwhelming rush of hurrying time. I wondered what to do with my wandering, drowning mind. I watched the darkness as it poured in from the cracks of windows that had long been sealed shut by the force of billowing winds and fiery heat. The rubber washers were cracked and had begun to crumble. They had spilled over the silvery rims of the window sills like powdery ash. I remembered the time when the freshly scrubbed windows had held the face of a smiling girl, clapping noisily at the kids who ran around and played. Images of happiness gain, again my smile froze in my mind. Were all my memories of happiness being strangled? Where had my laughs gone, then? I drew my limbs in closer, pulling the black snow in closer. I waited for sorrow to force silence aside and embrace me like a frenzied lover. I waited.

The walls of the forgotten house rang sharply as I laughed humorlessly when the tears didn’t pour out. Spurned, again by a lover. I had to rise to rid myself of morbidity. But how could I, when the walls chose to cling so weakly, so powerlessly? Spindly claws of webs had spiraled themselves around me. They tore pitifully as I stood up. My feet rang noisily through the house as I stumbled outwards. Everything vanished behind the brown door as I fumbled with the latch. I touched the door with my palm, my mind yearned to wrench it open, to drown again. I pressed my face to the door, feeling powdery brown dust crawl against my cheek. I whispered to hazy images of a little girl running.

 Bury me, as you did my memory, my child.