Somewhere
Whatever was here has gone.
Already the world has filled in
the empty spaces.
Children play on scars.
Traffic noise has overwritten
the silence.
Nothing remains.
Each poem becomes a hole
in which what has gone
or is going
is kept and kindled for a while,
throwing off a little light
to be anointed with love
and cradled in a hope
something of it will survive
…..somewhere.
|