Forgive Your History
on Jun 01 in Poems by Don SilverFrom beneath the mist
I see a yellow candle
by the bed flicker.
.
A voice whispers
forget about accounting
for what is and just be.
.
Everything I wished for once
disappeared in the night
like a giant freighter
down a river of longing
toward the horizon.
.
All that remains is the story
of a thousand departures.
Each one leaves its residue
on the inside of my skin.
Don,
This is quite lovely. A thousand departures, the story, history. A good way to measure and a hint for how to let the accounting go.
KD