Flickering Joys
Not Alzheimer's but mini strokes,
each rupture smothering a bit more of mortal brightness.
A dampening light,
like a skyscraper at late evening,
window by darkening window the structure loses its color
till only a dark heavenward tower looms.
The silhouette of the soul perhaps?
A dampening light,
like an ancient kitchen hearth burning its last log
with the warm orange light growing paler.
But dimming lights have flickers.
Window lights might momentarily turn back on
if someone returns to search for the forgotten.
And sparks fly from ancient fires.
Her grandchildren assembled.
One or two of us would randomly step out of the shadow.
Faces bright as before, the glow in her eyes,
proud to know she was blessed with yet another.
She discovered and rediscovered us, losing count of the
revelations,
quickly forgetting each joy, but eyes bright as a fast comet
each time she was reintroduced.
© 1997 by Richard Fein, all rights reserved
Richard Fein, who teaches
highschool in the jungles of
New York City, could well be
named The Crown Prince of
Internet Poetry. His work has
been published ALL OVER
the web in such e-zines as
Netgazettes Poetry
Magazine, Utterants,
JStarr's Poetry Forum and
The Poetry Exchange.
Richard's work has also
appeared in such print
magazines as Birmingham
Poetry Review, Maverick,
Oregon East, Sonoma
Mandala Literary Review,
Kansas Quarterly, and Blue
Unicorn.
