Poetry Sunday

[caillile]

Things are very quiet as we gain or lose people. It's kind of like the net loss or gain of electrons. Cool in a chemical sort of way.



There were clear
Blue waters as far as the eye
Could see
Calm
Underneath
A blistering summer sky

I cast this net into the
Depths
And perhaps I thought
In that still
I would only call forth
A moment or two
A quiet smile

Instead,
Clouds building upon the horizon
Of our minds, our souls
I brought forth from those impossible
Depths
A psalm of your misery and
Played upon our mutual prayer
For something different
Screaming and thrashing
Churning until
It is released upon the surface

Lesser things weathered
Or greater things survived
Washed up on shore
Like debris
Driftwood
Alone, and distant this thing
That might once have been love.