Impressions (of a young life lost)

sunlight thru treesBorn out of time, a fault not your own,

bearing along the wisdom of sages,

on tiny dove-like wings you lit upon the earth.

Spreading wider to touch with gentle flutter,

for one sweet, though bitterly brief, moment.

A whisper soft impression from the artist’s brush

left upon a canvas of glue and gold, and gray and black.

Your golden hues brightening the darkened background

like shafts of sunlight streaming through an empty room at dusk,

leaving a trail of light as it meanders its way through open doors

to beam in upon–other rooms–other lives.

Some felt the flutter of dove’s wings,

others saw the artist at work with the brush.

Some will remember, still others will not;

but the earth, she remembers and mourns

the passing of her little dove.

The canvas recalls and yet bears the impression,

and the hope of tomorrow is borne

in the colors still left

upon the artist’s palette.

 

 

First Place Award Winner
Sparrow Grass Poetry Forum, Inc
Award of Poetic Excellence
Published in Poetic Voices of America
Fall 1994

Related Posts

Your Comments