The Hallowing of Hollowing

The hallowing of hollowing,
A process I know well:
I filled myself with nothingness,
And grew too proud to tell –

I thought my sorrows justified
The moments that I stole;
But then, the truth intruded on
What was left of my soul —

I know the emptiness I’ve lived,
I feel the keening lack –
But now, my eyes have seen the truth:
There is no going
Back

An Echo In The Forest

From across a far ravine.

An echo in the forest
From across a far ravine;
The last words that you said to me
In memory still green

An echo in the forest
That my lonesome ears discern:
The sound of your departing
Knowing you would not

Return

A Certain Kind of Trouble

The kind of trouble that she was
I’d never known in all my days;
But found in new and countless ways
That trouble is as trouble does

Entrancing in her loveliness,
And seemingly so soft and sweet:
I found her virtue truly fleet,
For she, at heart, was pitiless

Our troubles take a certain shape.
I sought, from her, a higher ground:
But when I breathed her in, I found
A trouble I could not
Escape

The Fog, The Rain and You

Regret has a way of staying with you.

Music and words can block out sound
But cannot block out thought;
I drive and drive to clear my mind
But don’t find what I’ve sought

It all surrounds, envelops me,
The rain, the fog, and you;
I cannot see, I cannot hear,
And nothing that I do

Has saved me from the blinding truth
Here in the fog and rain:
That you and I will never,
Ever,
Be the same
Again

lying awake

she lies awake and wonders where it went
the glow that once surrounded who she was
for all the hidden talents she’s misspent
for random choices, lacking a “because”

in stillness now, she thinks of one mistake
her mother’s eyes with tears were dabbed and flecked
for all that woman’s faults, for goodness sake
she didn’t merit wanton disrespect

but now, her mother gone beyond her reach
the tears beset her eyes, and she feels shame
the lessons only loneliness can teach
when there is no one else that’s left to blame

but she’s no worse than most: it’s how she’s built
to lie awake awash in waves of guilt