Tag Archives: end of the road

Ghostwalker

GHOSTWALKER

A foot in the sand without imprint.
Fingers that leave not a mark.
A whisper lost among crowds.
Voices left up to storage.
A letter detailing some heartache.
Boxes of work holding seal.

A hand starved for affection.
Shoes faded and cracked by the sun.
A shirt with interpretive scent.
Numbers canceled and sent out to roam.
A palm whose lines are forsaken.
Lists resting on soft incompletion.

A desk and a chair that sit lonely.
Mailboxes stuffed from a feast.
A lover whose tears have come often.
Teachers with eyes made of stars.
A table with settings discarded.
Conversations without a reply.

A landlord’s burdensome scramble.
Coins and bills hidden well.
A picture of years without limit.
Bonds broken with force hard to feel.
A life lost with no exposition.
Remainders left fractions of wholes.

A test of the faith of a will.
Spaces and wounds that won’t heal.

Adolescence Interrupted

A Point of no return

A stopwatch thumb clicking down to zero. We are hurtling toward an impossible recovery window, and the fate of the future rests in the hands of the next anointed leader of the free world.

Partisanship aside, that’s a terrifying concept. If we slide our chips to the center of the table, is the action anything more than a clenched-jaw “wing and a prayer” blindfolded dart toss?

Stakes are impossibly high, and we are sprinting along the edge of an unfinished bridge. Hands clasped tightly over ears, there is an absurd reluctance to embrace the inevitability of fate beneath the towering mountain of science playing the crucial part of a canary in the coal mine.

So do we choose to be silent observers or screaming warriors? Should we take a pass or take a swing? Regret is a nasty little rash, so some active engagement might prevent a life of head-swimming insomnia or a ceaseless swarm of butterflies in the belfry.

Sitting on the sidelines is not an option when the planet’s very survival hangs in the balance. Unfortunately, the countless species of creatures who continue to be affected by the savage stripping and polluting of their homes still lack the opposable thumbs needed to pull those levers in a voting booth.

They’re counting on you to do what’s right. We all are.

Adolescence Interrupted