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A Misplaced Death


To wander like the wind of one thousand faces
amplified by silence,
the shadows beckon me to the earth,
with forgotten and smoked memories,
I glide my way through unwelcome fields.

Cast ashore
by the concave sky
beckoning me adrift
on a sea of darkness,
a stranger of many faces.

Haunted by extra commas,
the landscape between
our past and present
separates and unites us
with misplaced and loyal passions.

Anon
Poetry Theme(s):

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Ballinasloe Station

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