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tomorrow’s rain will wash away the stain they say

November 13, 2015

tomorrow’s rain will wash away the stain they say but tomorrow never comes for some  for more and more  only the setting sun who flutter and flit through drifting  droughts on broken wings

who fear to fall struggling to recall broken promises long-lost in bottles tossed out to sea who sense the distant fall of crashing waves all about them on their deserted spit of land that flings us far out from any proximity or chance to regain our footing and keep our balance

without sustenance we will not survive you know

we harbor away a haven treasure of provisions to prevail and wait out tumult that awaits us in our daze  we look furtively for any sign of hope a glimmer a flare a chance to rise above with crests that push us through torment  pitting us with a mournful cry piercing our cries forgetting that we ever were alive

you plead

crossing the plain from eternity to never-never land forbidden by all to see or touch or even know your name  there never is a fence tall enough a place for you a blind that protects you from an unkind gesture or prevents you from growing scales to cover up these wounds

making public will a condemnation to exile across the bearing sea on a strait that criss-cross and places you in harm’s way for good whether you know what is going on or have a way home

no cheer or anyone to greet you as you cross the threshold essentially you’re left to succumb whether ailing young and infant born or old 

everything you owned spilled and fell went out the door left you be like a floundering struggling fish gasping for breath

you have an appointment they say but your voice is lost your will lapsed your memory stale you fret because you forgot again to keep the moment open

you shriek

no one knows where your record went  you point through the  window at the yard and the sea the bottle that floats and now has sunk and disappeared.

you nibble and bite your lip and then your tongue  you never catch up  you know you’re done and yet, you resist the temptation to blurt out that now we are six.

yesterday is gone and tomorrow will never come


and    at last we’re done  at last resort we freshen up and await the final destination in this wilderness 

yesterday is gone and tomorrow will never come


anguish sits upon my countenance from the stigma of being let off and knowing yesterday is gone and tomorrow will never come

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