Cold wind moaned through the canyon
overhead palled a sky full of decades.
Rockbound with regret, immured alone, and numb,
graven with memories that time itself abrades,
I endured the bleakness of my cage of stone.
Then you, a quiet river, flowing deep,
sought crevices, found clefts I hadn't known
existed, awakened years of fretted sleep,
resurrected old reasons, cheated tombs,
laved my molten center with loving flood,
released to light and air the torrid brumes
that yearned to escape from the beaten blood.
eroded the years of solitude and sorrow;
I can breathe, nostalgic for tomorrow.
Originally published in Maelstrom,
Vol. 1, Issue 5, August 1998.
Barry Ergang writes
poetry, fiction, and occasional book reviews, and has had
work appear in print in Maelstrom, Erehwon, Pulpsmith, Stereophile,
Z Miscellaneous, Laughing Lions and Zineth, among others.
Online, his poem "Fragments From the Wolfman's Journal" won
a Merit Entry in the first Internet Literary Arts Poetry Contest,
and another poem is featured at the Maelstrom website. He
works for a high-end audio/video retailer.
on Some Emily Dickinson Lines ~ For
Ann Sexton ~ Campfire
Rain ~ Nocturne