Keep on walking: it will come in

Abandoned house with graffiti walls.


The wings in your eyes remind me of
the open sky over snow in this valley,
once a paradise, cold so cold the glass
of night cracks open every fear, alone,
you begin in patience, but the cold 
draws down all reserve of a fight left
in your blood, because if it wants in —
cancer, fading recall, maps crushed
into sand, despair, even death, every
story from every grave in your memory —
it will come in, doors will open, windows
will open, felicity becoming a ghost, your
heart will twist in the dry air, like wood,
and time will become more punishment
than gift, immune to every confession,
every promise, and every fulsome prayer

(From my notebook.)

photo credits
(where not otherwise credited)

“Another troubled road” / photograph by Ricardo Richter on