Mark A Fisher

exoneration

Thomas hadn't expected to be alive    

when the town's time capsule was opened

but moments had piled up like snowdrifts

covering secrets that had been forgotten

when the town's time capsule was opened

discovered beneath the founder’s statue

covering secrets that had been forgotten

through diligence and death

discovered beneath the founder’s statue

were the bones of scandals buried

through diligence and death

and slow ticking of generations

were the bones of scandals buried

underneath cenotaphs of victims

and slow ticking of generations

a tiny taste of vindication

underneath cenotaphs of victims

but moments had piled up like snowdrifts

a tiny taste of vindication

Thomas hadn't expected to be alive    

twilight

there are waves crashing on rocky shores

sunset sinks beneath a western horizon

as stars begin to twinkle in sapphire skies

while spirits float away on gentle zephyrs

sunset sinks beneath a western horizon

tide pool lives alter from tides coming in

while spirits float away on gentle zephyrs

as trapped moments drift out of the way

tide pool lives alter from incoming tides

unbound and freed of chained purpose

as trapped moments drift out of the way

drawn down into that infinite abyss

unbound and freed of chained purpose

the watcher now waits upon the border

drawn down into that infinite abyss

concentrated in Stygian misgivings

the watcher now waits upon the border

as stars begin to twinkle in sapphire skies

concentrated in Stygian misgivings

there are waves crashing on rocky shores

lingering

in the lonely moments before dawn

all my ghosts come to me whispering

telling tales they’ve told me before

that I’ve gathered up into verse

all my ghosts come to me whispering

reminding me of foolish deeds

that I’ve gathered up into verse

that I’ve painted into starry nights

reminding me of foolish deeds

lost to everyone but the specters

that I’ve painted into starry nights

that hide all behind halos of pain

lost to everyone but the specters

hiding behind their phantom fingers

that hide all behind halos of pain

still they cling onto me

hiding behind their phantom fingers

telling tales they’ve told me before

still they cling onto me

in the lonely moments before dawn