Silences

Between silences

I can hear the storm

closing in, a low rumble

at distance

following a brightening of the sky.

Another silence.

Another flash

and I’m

c   o   u   n   t   i   n   g       s   e   c   o   n   d   s

to a louder crash

signifying its presence.

I can feel the tension

in our next silence.

Waiting for you to explode,

the storm upon us now,

and I am the lightning rod

to your anger filled rant,

a thunderhead of emotion

pouring out.

I may get drenched in the storm

but the silences

kill.

Depression Lifting

                                                                                                                                          copyright Paul E. Smith

A misty veil drowns the oars

that break the stillness

of morning.

The brightness

of guessed at sunlight

catches ripples

as shadows pass.

A heron silhouetted

against bright water,

cast in bronze,

is still.

As day alights

and I awake

parting the curtains of sleep

I step from dream

to dream.

Tattooed Tears

We cry for our youth, lost

beyond these pleasant shores

sent out to fight the shadows

in commitment to others’ laws.

As another flag draped coffin

sails down tear flooded streets,

one more community bows their heads

to the drum’s slow beat.

We’ve brought back so many brave hearts

in parts from foreign places

and shed so many tears we feel

they’re tattooed on our faces.

Brought back so many brave hearts

so tender in their years

lost the ones we care for

and shed too many tears.