Nocturne in d-flat minor
(for my late-father)
In the same way breezeless trees are still
I ask for nothing
only to be.
Today is another demand,
the deep churning of time that quickens
that which falls silently into the hole
till nothing is left
but the final sleep of exhausted flowers.
If I could translate this,
this thin string of old light,
it would be the loneliness
of a single shoe left behind.
If I could wake up and forget your absence,
this empty heart would be less heavy.
I dare say nothing. Nothing.
Only, I have spoken a few words too many.
Across a blue smear
I watch the wind-scattered clouds break apart.
They say nothing,
not even thank you
to the kindhearted wind,
for its long body touches
each cloud’s demise.
The wind is blind, so it only touches
still, it is possible to leave
to break apart
to enter the hole without feeling
to feel nothing
for what we leave behind.
© Dah Helmer
Featured Writer from “Creative Talents Unleashed Writers Group”
Photo Credit: © Donna J. Sanders
Categories: Featured Writer's