On the coast battered and bruised
we stand and search for distant visions
knowing we are not the first to arrive
The song we lost comes to us again
on wind out of the east
and we flee from it into new longing
with a hope to outrun the dead
Only new ghosts wait ahead with open arms
in palace halls we’ve not yet built
upon hilltops that once were burial mounds
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Photo by Ryan Parker on Unsplash
I enjoyed “we flee from it into new longing.” Very nice.
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Thank you! Cheers (:
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I’m not sure where you’re located, but this poem reminded me of the Pacific North West.
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I’m in Colorado now, but I was born and raised in the PNW! So I suppose that makes sense (: cheers!
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Superb, man … ‘Only new ghosts wait ahead with open arms/ in palace halls we’ve not yet built …’.
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