In the chill of people,
cacaphony of murmurs
stacked like cordwood
on my mind craving
escape from a world
plastic like the smell
of rotten apples
squished by a transport
on a hot August afternoon,
to find a place deep and far beyond
the everydayness of nothing special
that fills the time from first cry
until the verdant carpet
is pulled over your head
preparing for the endless sleep,
I find a space almost too small
that I can crawl into and bathe
in the softness of the haunting
remorse of a fallen people
cast upon the tide to sail endless
in search of home and meaning
left only with the songs and memories
tucked safety into tattered pockets,
we join hands across time
and drift away together.
ml’26
(listening to Armenian Duduk Stillness on YouTube. Original image by Frank Rietsch at Pixabay.com)