(tbt) Ramble

From November 21, 2012

Ramble

The river smells of ghosts again.
Sometimes we worry they’re our own —
that this rambling brings us
to no good end.

Was a time
we were strong and settled.
Now is expectation —
and we must trust
attentiveness
to take on what defense
we can no longer manage.

And we should be so lucky:
that something might happen
to break the intensity
of this day-to-day.

But this loneliness we looked for

dominates.

We celebrate
the dark and the dead,
and can wish it were otherwise —
but know

you will never find us here.

And the answers
are dust —
something to be found out
and cleared away.

Author: Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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