Tell Me A Story

 

Scan the landscape of my life from above

As an invisible observer

Without judgment

Circle above as a cloud of white

Without shadow

Seasons pass on the road of time

But now I feel neither

Cold, nor warm

I only peer at my existence

Through gauzy curtains

Into rooms no longer mine and

Only during my quiet observation can I see

The truth of what is and of what was

A bow drawn across strings

Will make a perfect sound that resonates

With my heart

Tell me the story of how I came away

And how I found my path

Play a soft steady hum of sound

Pull a painted scarf across

The rim of an empty vase

There, under the passing pattern

I see a deep receptacle waiting to be filled

 

 

© April 2, 2018

Diane E. Dockum