A Piece of Stolen Time

A Poem by Dean

I remember when I wrapped it carefully--
put it away, and those who led me into life
could rest until I call them forth into
a resurrected day

Now the package lies in that old bureau drawer,
undisturbed through seven decades
I don't need it, and I can't throw it away.
It is all I have of the I, that once was everything.

I remember most of what is there, or believe I do.
Does it depend on me?
Do these unremarkable, precious ghosts
still fly with slippery wings?

And do they ever think of me?
Oh yes, I know they do. I have a date
with them, already penciled in, and though
I cannot see it, I know that it is soon.

Meanwhile, they stand there, motionless,
their smiles know no martyrdom,
a silent miracle--my treasure is well-preserved.
And, I too shall play their role.

So this is our reality; we make it so.
Our thievery is faithful, and I hear the rumbling
of a past creating future as I watch.
The tumbling years will never pass me by.

The pictures in my mind may lie forever
in that bureau drawer, but tragedy and conquest,
love and sweet regret will stalk the ages
now condensed for me in one cherished

fragment of reflection when
an idle consciousness audaciously
burst forth into unending light.
~

© 2013 Dean

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Reviews

J. J. Nightingale

I often wonder where I will rest
Sweetly wrapped, and hidden from view
Or up in smoke..forever away
Will any mind or heart hold memory of-
The lifelong traces of my breath..

I keep things .. not sure why
It's like holding hands with heaven
Until I feel the urge to fly..

Jazz