Eyes wide open

in the dark, blood rushing, pounding heart. Still I cannot see.

Can you believe, will you find relief

walking down once-familiar streets?

Before light to the darkness of the dream, or the dawn,

or the dread,

now only streetlights. I wake. I walk, I wonder.

Halogen hum overhead, the only sound, above scorched earth

or snow-covered ground.

Only one reason for being here, everything else

is gone.

 

Let me sleep.

Let dreams whisper. I’ve got thoughts, which must come out,

I shouldn’t need to shout. I cannot listen.

Below a moonlight serenade, the homeless search

for shelter and sustenance, while new lover’s trade

secrets

behind the door. Promises not shared before.

Not with each other.

I wander. These were once streets, bursting with kindness.

The sidewalks, now, little more than foreign, there is no welcome here.

Not in the way it was, as I left it.

 

Do you take

what is there, take the care, or do you wait to lay your heart

before the soul who once listened to all you know,

and found comfort. In my voice there was enough,

yet now it is torn with edges

rough.

What was still is. Or is it? There is value in a thought.

A struggle with contempt

of dreams I might have spent, but not wisely.

There is no warmth. I will go back from where I came,

my presence will remain.

 

© 2016 j.g. lewis