The Calling

The calling,
The feeling,
Living in the day and the night.

Remembering and holding on.
All the calls,
Within the night,

As it all goes,
Brought from within memory.

A call back,
Into the once light shine.

As this light goes.
Fueled from within,
Through the light and memory.
Hopes, through uncertainty.

Memories clear and bright as the day.
As with those sweetest memories,
To stay and keep,
To keep for and from another day.

Reminder of another bright day.
Another time,
Another place,
Another feeling.
Giving me feeling in place,
Another light burning bright.

The light of another time.
Through and into calling.
Light, shining bright.

A fire to let me go on.
Hope and light,
To call me out of darkness.
Hope for light.

Calling for light, life and for another time.

Writing this, thinking, of the good thought, the good memory, of my friend who’s gone abroad, having an amazing time and the memories of those many but all too few times. Messaging late at night, all those times. Waiting for their bus with them, chatting, laughing, hanging out, nerding over our passions and past-times. Giving me some hope.

Looking at the Scars

Looking at the scars,
Memories through the time.
As I see them before me.
Scars lingering on.

Even once past,
The scars.
In looking into the light,
Scars glistening,
Reflecting me,
A show of light,
Of darkness.

The cold sting,
From old scars,
Just as if they were new,

The lingering,
Of darkness to light.
A reminder,
How light comes,
Keeping and shadows stick to,
Standing in the light,
The shadow, staying with,
Being in the light.

Coping better,
As the scars stay,
Staying close.

Waiting for the day to break,
Knowing the shadows,
The scars, stay,
Glistening in detail,
Memories, of their incision,

Into the mind,
And into place.

Wrote this, had a good and happy thought, memories of a friend who’s abroad, one I care about, the last few nights, of many, the few dinner and movie nights. They cooked dinner, I brought Ben & Jerrys, watched a movie that meant a lot in their childhood. And the time, we went neon crazy golf, it was good.

This memory, led to bad ones, funny, how the scars stay, memories stay, just as scars.

This is a poem, of the scars and shadows that stay.
Memories, scars, of the mind.