[my son before his disability issues]
the gathering dusk begins to choke the daylight
my time to commune with the ghosts of twilight
here I find my peace and the courage
to fathom a silent grief, bone-deep and lonely
uncurling around an abyss in foggy nights.
I race through this all under the pulsing
luminescence of a sliver of moonlight
penetrating bravely through silver clouds
I refuse to be swallowed up in the shadows
or be caught up in conflicting directions
We are all silhouettes in the dark
and we learn that grieving is senseless
a tasteless porridge of chaos and crisis
if it's all for nothing, it becomes disorienting
even more droll than the theater.
I try to meld into the murk and gloom
prowling longingly like a cat beneath
birds perched on trees, sleeping unperturbed
it's transforming me, being one with it
an experience of a touch of the Divine.