Friday, November 5, 2021

A Simple Poem

These lines do not seek to elucidate great truths,
nor do they speak of empires or a paradise lost.

To my great surprise, they have appeared,
letter by letter, to speak of water and leaves

that write history anonymously
as they fall or flow into a sunrise or sunset

that may or may not be noticed
by a camera shutter or the persistent scratch

of a pencil in a journal.
Commentary is in short supply these days.

These lines exist to speak of the moment,
a placeholder so that people fallen in time

might catch up to the elusive present,
though it is probable that only a few will arrive.

The words are as quiet as an epitaph,
as unpretentious as a suit off the rack.

They watch but are not seen
except by those who ask, seek, knock.

They are as elusive as a shadow
slipping into the death of high noon,

and yet they could hold the sun falling into the sea
if anyone demanded such a feat of humility.

In silence is power.
In a word there is always epiphany.

In the beginning was a word,
and these are the children of God.

~William Hammett

Site Map

No comments:

Post a Comment