He

He wanders through the mist
A lost soul on a timeless search;
A candle snuffed before its time;
A name once worn with pride 
No longer his,
Taken from him in his prime,
Now a mark upon a list
For which the living shed 
Their tears

But he …

He wanders, aimless, through the haze
Crying out at heaven’s gate
Trying to escape this watery grave,
Nothing there to grasp but shreds
Of memories snatched
From a moment, shattered,
That haunt his soul and clings to him
Even as he finds a place to rest
And takes again his next
First breath,

And he …

He still can’t shake the water 
Off his back,
Can’t stop the thrashing
As the ocean seethes and fires burn
Amid the deaf’ning roar.
It lives within his dreams
When night gets thick and black
And even as a boy he still relives 
Those last seconds of a life
From which he died

For he …

He has walked this earth
Before.




Janet Reid
february 2008