Missing (part 4)

Are your words still with you?  Did you
carry your stories deep into 
the night and leave them like luggage
on a railway platform, an age
and more down silver tracks, with just
the wind, the stars, and leaves like dust
blowing and hissing in the dark?

This silence leaves a fading mark.
The thing that took you left your face
in bodies unknown to you, lace
filaments tracing what the eyes
of others cannot see: the ties
that generation takes away;
the look in eyes that cannot stay.

8 thoughts on “Missing (part 4)

    • Thank you Julia. I will pop over and check it out soon.
      My father’s illness did not have much enjoyment for anyone I think. Some funny moments, yes, but many ugly, scary episodes. It’s funny but your comment shocked me a bit until I recalled a comment I had made about a piece I wrote on my mother’s death, and said much the same thing:
      I’m not sure why, but I seem to be more comfortable with death than with memory loss. But that is why I write this “Missing” series.
      Thank you for your words–


  1. “carry your stories deep into
    the night and leave them like luggage
    on a railway platform”

    I love this line. It reminds me of a repetitive dream of being lost in a railway station, searching for the people I love. I get the same feeling from your poem as from the dream. Good one. Alice


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