I live my life through the words I write
Collecting dust in the corner,
memories of who I once was
and hoped to be,
stand stagnant
letting the castaway remnants of air
settle, and find a new home.
Layer upon layer,
compressing those beneath,
perhaps eventually
stratifications will appear through the dusty clouds.
Memories, all visible,
stacked on top of the other.
Remove one layer at a time,
clean and polish the surface.
When memories have turned to dust
it’s time to let them go.
Fingerprints disturb the dust on the coffee table
interfering with the occluding white film
so one can see the difference between
clean and dirty,
certain and uncertain.
Look through the glass
to see the magazines beyond, on the other side,
otherwise hidden.
Carve through the dust
to create the stark contrast, often needed,
to help them see
what you are looking for, trying to see.
Leave the fingerprints behind, just for a while,
so they can see how easy it is
to look for what they’re looking for, too.
Dawning Words 