I WALK WITH HER AMONG THE IMAGES

Once you have memories
they never leave,
but often lose lucidity
with the distance
of a dream.

Floating
with the filtered light of time,
they hide
in silent shadows
and appear
with umpredictable randomness,
like sudden bursts of color
moving from an artists
pallette to a patient canvas
to brighten a somber sky
or silence the scent of daylight.
Although barely visible,
I cling to those visions
like a lifeline.

Drifting away from myself,
I walk with her among the images,
as they unfold and refold,
like a fan,
to reveal a myriad of treasures,
pirated from a lifetime
of living.

Today
the ice is thin beneath me.
Tomorrow
the ground will be solid
where I stand.

In between
is the natural rythm of life,
which I will find
when it is ready to be found.

Until then,
I keep.
Until then,
I walk with her among the images.


© JOHN PISCATELLA