LOST SOULS

LOST SOULS

We used to call cricketts

Souls

My brother, sister, and I.

At night on a full Moon,
I would look out my window
and see silohuettes of
cats and trees
(and the red light
of a cigarette)

against the deep blue sky.

Whispers passed between us,
questions for my older brother to answer-
                             
                                -which he always did.

Slowly the night would swallow us whole,
and for an
infinite moment,
I lost all sense

of up or down.

I was
(not flying but)
careening,
afraid I would never come back.

How long this lasted
I do not know.

Then I would hear the souls,
Singing in the night
Admiring the moon
Whispering to each other
Drawing me
Home

and I would sleep,
safe and content,
Protected by their music.

Now, I no longer need
To shut my eyes to lose
my senses.

Every day I am
(not careening but)
floundering.

Lost.

And I must listen,
must learn to hear again,

The Souls,

admiring the Moon,

I must learn again,
to let the living violins
carry me Home,

And caress my
Worried heart.

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