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Liz Palmer-Smith

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Former Shadow

Here it is almost dark.
I wander around, but mostly it scares me,
Sinuous shadows sneak in corners
Caging stationary objects that can’t object
To imminent incarceration, obliteration
By darkness, but I am determined.

I wander between the trees,
They are shrouded with dirty, torn sheets.
These are your thoughts.
I try to clean them, weaving delicate threads
Of thought to repair the many tears.
Their ghoulish mouths gape at me in the ill wind.

Once we walked here together,
You showed me how to fashion castles from clouds,
Flowers formed in your footfalls.
The sun warmed your unspoken words
Which showered me, sweet smelling petals,
Each a document of love’s decree.

I am not sure when the weeds spread,
There is no momentous pinnacle on which
I can hang my flag of exactitude,
I noticed the brambles ensnaring my hair,
And the bare tree trunks fallen to my feet.
I could do nothing then, only weep.

Later, I noticed a blood-tinted daisy
Nurtured by my angry tears, so I too knew fear.
I felt newly awake then,
Hungry with the need to restore reality,
Aching to re-plough this fertile imagination,
Banishing brambles and sweeping up shadow
Into my little detritus dustpan,
To bring you back.
I am determined.

 

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