| Poem |
 
|
Ants in a Dust Storm by Neil Cladingboel
 (15 ratings)
|
Spilt coffee flows,
Like life from a severed heart;
Paintings on the lonely wall
Hang, a little too far apart?
Outside the broken window the children play
Not knowing where to turn,
The generals who guard their days
Have still so much to learn!
Behind the door, I see you there
Just waiting for a sign,
Thinking that I didn't care,
Or maybe didn't have the time
Reaching out to knock again
You suddenly change your mind,
I can feel the tears that stain your face,
Seeking a strength you cannot find
So again you leave me wondering
If you're coming back to stay,
Although, you know you never even told me
Just why you went away...
In a white walled office behind a cluttered desk
Sits a man who has the proof,
Upon his shoulders rests the fate of those
Who merely seek to learn the truth
The news tell us stories of mushroom skies
And of suns that burn too bright,
From across the seas, we hear the pleas
For someone to bring back the night
So, like everyone else I sit and wait
For the second sunrise today,
I think of you and the hours we'll miss
And how there's still so much to say
Now everything is left just as it was -
Unfinished sentences lost in the wind;
Journeys to nowhere never reaching an end;
Not even a chance to say goodbye to a friend!
Like ants in a dust storm,
In silence we'll die,
A lot of us not knowing,
And perhaps a few who'll wonder why?
(From "Tale Spin and Visions of Transition", © 2001, 2003.)
| |
