Thursday, January 6, 2011

Tomorrow


Long after I am gone — the roots I leave behind, the crooked plow, the rutted ground, the sacred well, the wind that blows dust into my eyes — you will say, He was one of us, our own, as if all were known of this great, gray world in which I roam, and my answer will not be a song, but a gift, a drop of blood, an ache, a thorn in your soul.


Updates:
“Tomorrow” added to Poems, Slightly Used.
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6 comments:

Woman in a Window said...

i was asked once, do i know you? your people? somehow those words made a gasp in my soul.

you write, he was one of us, our own, and i gasp again. when i open my mouth i draw you in, a song, a gift, a drop of blood, an ache, a thorn in my soul.

xo
erin

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Erin. As always.

Joseph Hutchison said...

Brilliant, William! A wonderful companion piece to the thick-rooted portrait you posted....

William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Joe. They do go together well. I was pleased when I saw how Jasmin had combined the two. And now I know what I’ll look like if I ever braid my beard....

Aleksandra said...

Brilliant and beautiful!

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Aleksandra. If so, it’s like a certain friend I know....