A Visit

We sat in the dark, smoking, talking,
Remembering, and re-membering
All that was before, the past that seemed
So close on our heels, like a sniffing hound or
A round blinking light that blinded us when
We wandered too close to ourselves. In tears
You told me of your Mother, her pain, her
Sorrows, her drifting through the door. I
Knew her, loved her, almost like my own.
That you guided her gently is what
Matters most, kind heart, sweet sadness.
The wounds I received brought forth fruit
Of the body, slashed thrice, bitter waters
And blood spilling forth. Acrid and old,
Like the Ancient wells filled with rust
And dreams, the wounds, three in one,
Healed when the mewl of life was heard.
Years, come and gone, silver and spent,
Harrowed and burrowed deep in the flesh,
Like a field just before the plow sets in,
Or a rock strewn about giving birth to detritus.
I could swear I saw a lantern in your eyes,
Swinging slowly in the night, searching, glowing,
An incredulous knowing of truth from within.

Text created by Susan Isabella Sheehan
“Art Is The Perception Of An Altered Reality©”
Copyright 2008 Surreal Digital Artist™

A Visit

Susan Isabella  Sheehan

SANTA CLARA, United States

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Artist's Description

Thoughts In My Present Stream Of Consciousness…..

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