how will you reach me now
here in this still place?
what channels are open?
what secret ways?
is there any chance
that now, even now
you will reach out from the past
or from the future
from that other place come running
down trails choked
with drifts
with fallen leaves
will reach out
and touch my face
with a quivering finger?
I fear I have become
unreachable
here in this rusty pool
in a dark forest
Just coming out of a 'black' time - and this poem really hit a nerve, but then poetry is suppose to leave an impression, and this one certainly has.
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