Can you tell? By looking?

The magnification of a life

wound around loom, unable to

speak its journey, then; without words

cleave to fear, smother sanity

reduce into molecule, back to primordia

the child says; I am afraid and the world replies

HUSH and presses fingers to scolding lips

we learn early, truth is fluid though it is not

cruelty is omnipresent, kindness rare but lingering

like a sunset you once saw with someone you loved

the warmth of their hand; c’était un sans faute

until it was not. Can you really tell? By looking?

When we stumble toward endings with unwilling

arms reaching back in time, no, not yet

will memory preserve the heart of the sun? Or shall the

timbered voice of moon solace terror

with its gentle rise in otherwise sightless night.

5 Replies to “Trespass”

  1. Condemned to silence
    even to hide the tears
    those words not spoken
    lost in a kind of space
    the kind of space in
    the subtitle of a monster movie
    the space in which
    no one can hear you scream

  2. I do like this evocative piece – hearing helps alongside looking!

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