top of page
  • By Roy Rosenblatt

Long Shadows

Heart’s temple paints

with light,

finding courage in small things;

a slap on the back,

warmth pressed

between honest hands.

Each time pulse rises

on fingertips

of hope

heartache breaks

the plane of our efforts.

So many sleep

and dream of waking

to forgiveness in a sunrise

while fate echoes

ancient and forgotten tragedies.

Long shadows of our times.

Mistrust hardens the veins

of our cities

where numbing silences

walk through hope’s ashes.

Winter creeps on

heavy with wounds healing,

wounds weeping.

Feel the blaze of turbulent eyes,

the pungent aroma of fear.

Each wound trapped in the blood.

The ripening peach sheds

her fertility.

Long shadows of these times.

These times, when the eye recedes,

when soul contracts,

let us rise up

from darkness and dream

that our wounds may remind us

we need not be sad beggars

for a springtime to yield

this interminable winter thaw.

Let us step from shadow to light

and rise up to remember

in strength and tenderness,

truth and taste,

pure and insatiable,

the waters we seek.

17 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All
bottom of page