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Palm Print

Author:

Just 50 year old guy in Beaverton Oregon, who enjoys family, craft beer, and being stupid. I have always enjoyed creative writing.

Photo Credit due to Scott Rodgerson

Photo Credit due to Scott Rodgerson


I’d walk by each day

I’d navigate the minefield of shattered Mickeys and used Insulin syringes amongst the fray

Closer I see you crying... screaming...

eyes welled with tears

Paralyzed, with concerned curiosity I stood

I can’t

I couldn’t hear..


I put my hand between the bars up to the rust streaked glass to touch

Feel vibrations...to feel ...you

A chance to be within your radius... close

A chance to tell you somehow I’m near,


I squint to see clearer as my glasses fog from smoldering cigarette butts and sour summer steaming iron sewer holes

A swirling upward tornado of acidic relieved whiskey wine and gin with a twist of rancid excrement burn and cinge my pinched nose


Still I wait to see.

Hear, feel to be ...

There when

IF...you reach...


I pass by each day on the way to school

pause

I wait and hope not to see

I approach exhaling with eyes closed

Envisioning a cinematic celebration of life, love & family

Envisioning a cleared path and barless window panes clean polished with quartz crystal clarity

Envisioning the salient moment where I taste peace, hope, safety & serenity


But the gurgling reality croak of the Raven’s truth awakens & jars me

Acid rain paints orange legs on this window scene

Once more I reach up between the bars for you to see

IF only to put your hand against mine

There ...

IF you stretch past the radiator anchoring you to fear

There ...

If you allow me to throw in a life preserver while you flail in an ocean of riding tears

There..

If only as a lighthouse beacon to offer hope and direction to guide you ashore

Outshining loneliness with waves of light overtaking despair


Grains rise higher at the bottom of the hourglass

Father Time preaches and Seasons pass


Still I hear shameful voices of inaction attempt to drown my soul

Darkness reaches up from the well in attempts to pull me under

The scales of Justice tip as I unrelentingly & obsessively wonder...

Did she find her reason?

Did she find a voice and was able to be free?

This hallowed flutter between chambers still waits to breathe.

It haunts me


Still


I never knew your name

I never knew what became

Through my life evolution I’ve loved, lost, grown & changed

I’ve since passed by and outlined my handprint on a boarded window recalling youthful days

The fires of time have burned.. scorched, torched, and ignited wisdoms praise

That

me

Successes , failures, all set ablaze

But with each exhale into the sunset,

The Woman in 64 forever in my heart has & always will remain

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