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You who made a
thousand angels blossom out of the night sky,
who banished
ghosts from the cob-webbed corners of a darkened room,
who could stem
the flow of time or dismiss it like an unruly child …
Where are you
now?
Where are the
mountains you once embraced,
those trees upon
which you etched your name for eternity to measure?
Where once you
sailed, is your boat now adrift and rudderless,
no longer
searching for a harbor but seeking only open seas ?
Where now the
hands that labored, and where the questioning mind?
Was it exile?
Banishment? A broken heart?
What relentless
straw was it, broke the camel's back?
And how is it I
feel your presence even in your absence?
© Paul Wittenberger, 3/23/2017
