At a Stand Still Looking Back

Midnights in slow motion

The deafening sound of a moment turning a page

I wonder how I am able to stand so still

Yet in a split second

A blink of an eye

Yesterdays begin to pile up behind me

Unable to reach back

They fade

And I wonder if they’ve become wasted moments in time

 

*Originally posted June 12, 2015

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Yama

Ascents and descents scatter the skyline

Chronicled timelines, inked highs and lows

Morning mist collected in clear jars, held up to the afternoon sun

Sunlight warms yesterday’s moments, mixing past and present

My father’s voice drifts in and out, never alone

Peaks and valley traversed

He walks by my side

Release the Anxious Sun

He called out

He waited, but the echo never returned

Instead he was greeted with the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end

Poking needles, a reminder of yesterday

How the sun rose in the sky, but never found the horizon to lay its head down at day’s end

The sun only waited and watched from above, trying to understand the hidden meanings that sometimes do not exist

Overcomplicating the simplicity of the moment

We are no better off reading tea leaves in a tiny cup

Floating in hot water

Steeping again and again, void of flavor and color

Drying spent leaves in the heat of the sun brings no salvation nor reprieve

They forever remain tasteless and grey

Instead, release the anxious sun, cycles need to complete

Allowing days to end, new yesterdays to birth

So a response can be heard the next time we call out

.

Originally posted October 12, 2015