Departure

i leaned back against a seat of wood and steel,
listened to 
trolley wheels on steel track 
held in place
by cobblestone and footprints,
mine, now off in a distance
looking back, 
fading into rounded stone,
rails into setted streets,
clanking into thin air.

i carried black and white photos in a
picture book,
held in place with 
torn, tattered trolley tickets 
and tape,
faces, backs of passengers, 
blurred smiles, glimpses 
of lives
stepping out onto 
rounded metal, memories nestled
into loosened stone.

i picked them up with an aging hand,
placed in an old mason
jar with 
rusted lid, set pensive on 
a windowsill of wood, 
its rope fraying, could 
no longer push up its
sash.

i grew older, broken steps in front of
boarded up buildings,
cobwebs slowly being moved 
by uninvited wind through
broken panes of glass.

a broken mason jar lay, wisps 
of remembrances 
returned.

i let myself go, eyes opening,
everything clean, the sky blue,
quite transparent,
nothing alike, everything
illuminated, possible.

my whole life i had dreamt of
this, now,
no more silence.

Copyright © 03/05/2014 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

Edited by Sumi Rebeiro and Lance Sheridan

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6 comments on “Departure

  1. You really captured the feelings of this journey in this poem….Felt like I was there! Well done. 🙂

  2. Life doesn’t promise us “forever’s” many times people live in a time, a place and an area to one day awake to find sudden peace. The images in this are magnificent and this reader’s mind walked the steps with the writer – must admit, I’ve been there! 🙂

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