Lost and cold I look around,
but I see nothing
of my surroundings.
All is dark,
black,
for a moment,
I fear I am blind,
but I can see myself,
if nothing else.
I listen,
in hope I will hear
anything
to give me an idea where I am.
There is nothing to hear
except for my own
rapid breathing.
No,
wait,
there is something faint,
a sibilant hissing,
almost
but not quite words.
A cold wind blows
bringing a shiver out of me.
I must be outside,
although I can still see nothing
but myself.
There is no smell on the wind,
just the cold
that chills more than my flesh.
I call out,
more fear in my voice
than I had hoped,
but my voice falls flat.
No echo,
no reverberation,
just a dull, flat noise.
No response,
either,
just that continued hissing,
almost words,
I can almost make them out.
I close my eyes,
not that it makes any difference,
but somehow it seems
to help my concentration.
I can’t remember
how I got here
or why I am here,
the last thing I remember
is going to bed the night before.
The wind blows again,
and the hissing grows louder,
almost
I can make out a word.
“coming”
and another
“soon”.
They have no meaning
to me,
no relevance
to my situation,
still,
they fill me with dread.
I feel as if the sky,
the sky I cannot see
presses down on me
leaden and ponderous.
My breathing
quickens
and become harsh,
panting from fear
rather than exertion.
I call out again,
fear adding strength
to my flat sounding voice.
But still,
no echo,
no response.
Just the sibilant hissing,
coming clearer.
Almost,
I think I understand,
I think I know
where I am,
why I am here,
and what the hissing means.
Just as the revelation
is about to burst through,
I wake.
I see my bedroom,
still shaking
I sit up in bed,
reveling
in the familiarity
of it all.
And as I lie back
to try and sleep again
I realize
the insight
into the meaning of the dream
had faded away,
leaving me feeling
uneasy
and with a deep sense
of loss.

I see something in your soul,
something that others
do not see.
Something they cannot see,
because they do not bother
to look at you at all.
Too cold, they say,
a heart of stainless steel,
a void, an empty shell
of a woman.
But I see something in your soul,
something I’ve never seen there
before,
after all these years
of knowing you,
knowing but not understanding,
this new thing,
makes me pause.
No more do you look through me,
as if I were not even there,
now, when I see you,
you glance at me,
one time, you even smiled.
I see something in your soul
that calls to me,
calls to me
when I didn’t even think
you knew my name.
You draw me to you
without a word,
but with merely a glance
that beckons to me,
and I,
ever the fool,
approach.
You reach out
to touch me.
Running fingers through my hair
and lightly caressing my cheek,
but your caress turns to claws
that furrow my flesh
and lay bare my soul.
You can see something in my soul,
as your laughter echoes in my ears,
you can see the love
I had for you.
No, you can see the love
I have for you,
for it remains
despite everything.
Because,
I see something in your soul.

A pale sliver of moon
peeks out
between heavy grey clouds.
Wan moonlight
reflects off grass
just starting to brown
with the touch of Autumn.
The night is silent,
calm,
waiting for something
that remains
undefined.
A brief shadow,
crossing in front of me,
there and gone
before I can tell
if it is from a bird,
a bat,
or something else.
I shiver,
as I stand in my front yard
witnessing this all.
Alone and forgotten,
no lights in the neighbor’s houses,
no cars on the street,
yet somehow,
I feel a part of something,
at one with the world
on the brink of something.
I just wish I knew what.
A cool breeze
drags at my skin,
a few brown leaves
skitter across my feet
and in the distance
a sound.
A howl or baying,
perhaps a dog or wolf,
then closer
the hoot of an owl.
And I know,
I know what the night is waiting for,
Halloween is coming.

The sun is starting to dim now,
with less warmth
upon my skin.
The days grow shorter
and grayer,
as the wind begins
to show its teeth.
I shudder
as I realize
Fall, is coming.
It is inevitable,
I know.
You cannot fight against time
anymore than you can avoid death.
Still,
I feel the change
come over me.
The room around me
seems to close in,
sounds dull
and colors fade.
Everything
that once gave me joy
slowly begins
to lose appeal.
And I feel myself
withdrawing,
burrowing deep
within myself,
to hibernate,
to hide away
from the Fall
that has reached my soul.
I shudder again.
I've gone through this before,
many times,
sleep away the Autumn
in hope of waking,
anew and refreshed,
once more ready
to face the world
when spring
comes again.

There once was a young man
who found his lady love,
hand in hand they’d wander
wherever the wind would blow.
Never a truer love
could you hope to see,
every evening they went walking,
walking,
walking,
in the evening they went walking
under the pale moonlight.
Time went by, years past,
their love continued to grow,
in a world full of changes
they remained consistent.
Despite having busy lives
with many a thing to do,
they always made time for walking,
walking,
walking,
there’s always time for walking,
and always hand in hand.
One day the young man woke up
to discover he’d grown old,
he turned to his lady love to ask her
how this had come to be.
But she didn’t answer,
for in the night, she had passed away
and that evening he went walking,
walking,
walking,
that evening he still went walking,
‘though his tears blurred the way.
Day by day his grief dimmed
yet it never faded away,
he learned to live life
without his lady love.
Many things have changed
but one remains the same,
every evening he goes walking,
walking,
walking,
shoulders slumped, he goes walking,
to remember his lady love.

Do not despair, oh crying one
all is not yet lost.
Despite all the myriad and tangled woes
that heap themselves upon you,
clinging and clutching,
suckling at your soul,
respite can still be found.
Cast off the shackles of depression,
break down the walls doubts have built,
and let your cry come onto me.
I'll absorb your sin and pain,
take it in, make it my own.
Leaving you free to go forth
into this world of endless trials.
Unfettered and unencumbered.
Ready to make new doubts,
more disappointments and mistakes.
And let your cry come onto me,
again.

I went to a funeral this morning,
not of a family member,
nor a friend or loved one.
It was a service for a complete stranger.
I don’t know why.
I was just walking past the cemetery,
on some errand, I don’t remember what.
Just that it seemed important at the time.
I saw the casket resting above an open grave,
and one priest, conducting the service.
That was all.
No one was in attendance,
no one.
I should have walked on,
I usually would have,
but I stopped.
Before I knew what I was doing
I walked up and joined the service.
I don’t know why.
Perhaps it was the solemn priest
officiating as if on stage before thousands,
instead of speaking to only the dead.
So moved by his own words
that tears crept down his face.
Or was he mourning not the death,
but that someone should pass so alone?
Our eyes met as I walked up
and stood beside the grave.
A brief smile crossed his face
as he continued on,
as if I had been there the whole time.
After the priest spoke the final prayers,
while the casket was lowered into the ground,
he briefly squeezed my hand in parting.
No words were spoken, none were needed,
we both knew what we had shared.
I cried.
I don’t know why.
Through my tears I read his name
on the crude wooden sign,
shoved unceremoniously into the ground,
marking the place where a stone would proclaim
that this stranger had lived,
and died.
Later that afternoon with newspaper in hand
I found his name among the obituaries.
Such a short entry,
so dry, no picture,
a young man, only twenty four.
Just a listing of facts,
he was born in town,
lived in town,
died in town.
No mention of friends or family,
just one other word,
suicide.
This stranger had taken his own life.
I don’t know why.
I returned to the cemetery that evening,
stood alone again by his grave.
Too many thoughts in my head,
moving too fast to be recognized,
a welkin of emotions
undefined.
I put my flowers, the only ones there,
on his freshly filled in grave.
Not lilies or roses,
symbolizing mourning or love,
just a simple bouquet,
forget-me-nots.
And a promise,
I will remember you,
even if
I don’t know why.