The Mantle (poem © 2008)

From: The Transcendence, La Salle University Press © 2008 

I’m sitting in the windowsill beside you, talking cultures and yesterdays
I’m running in the rain chasing after you, wishing you would turn around and kiss me
I’m standing in the mosque away from you, watching the congregation bow as one

in a hundred years, we shall all be dead.

I’m sitting in the windowsill beside you, talking silence and tomorrows
I’m running in the rain chasing after you, wishing you would never be forgotten
I’m standing in the mosque away from you, watching you turn around and see me

in a hundred years, we shall all be dead.

I’m sitting in the windowsill beside you, talking with words that vanish
I’m running in the rain chasing after you, wishing memories were time and space
I’m standing in the mosque away from you, watching the darkness gradually descend

in a hundred years, we shall all be dead.

moments slip from my grasp and dust creeps into my bones, and all the while a serpent’s at my heel
yet, somewhere, somehow, I’m still beside you, I’m still chasing after you, still yearning for you
and so I pull the mantle over my head, and set out across my life toward the horizon of dread

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