Slivers

She wanders, lost, through memories,
of times her heart was full
— though not with ache,
and feels another sliver of it break.

The walls are closing in, the gate is locked,
a Ferris wheel stands empty in the dusk,
just charcoal shadows pressed against the sky;
— a monument to times gone by.

Seagulls hover in the haze that drifts 
across the beach on careless waves,
their anxious cries a piercing blow;
a mockery of laughter shared so long ago. 

The chill that wraps around her
on this warm September eve
still lingers from the ghosts that haunt her past
and she doesn’t know how long it’s going to last

There is no solace in the smiling faces
of children playing carefree on the sand,
only acute reminders 
in the footprints left behind her,

And playing make-believe will never make it right,
nor will standing knee deep in the surf
watching sunsets drip into the sea
wash away her wounds and set her free.

And so she wanders, still, among the ruins
clutching onto splinters of her heart
as it shivers in the ache —
and feels another sliver of it break. 



august 2005
©Janet Reid




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Awarded by Poetic Constellations