The Clocks That Hurt

I look at that child in the photograph

All bright and beautiful

And I know that it is not me

Dear child

I have no memory of you

We die so many time

Before we eventually die

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Hush

You don't have to tell me. I just know. Its that little sniffle that comes through The unexplained pauses The slow responses I know when you call Just because you needed to cry.

That Fluttering of Broken Wings

If you were to cross the road and hurt your toe, I know that I will never know. As we go on to take different roads and move on across different shores, there is something that happens to our relationships. Something that estranges, disconnects, disintegrates. I know that you still think of me. I know this because I find myself thinking about you. And thoughts rarely get seeded on their own. It comes from you to I and from I to you until one of us is alive. Old relationships rarely die. Like broken winged moths, they hang around dark alleys of forgotten memory lanes. Ever so often, I can hear one of them flutter its wings. Not too close but never too far.

Stardust

All this time That has now gone by Is all in here All at once Together Einstein says That time lives on Eternally in the present Scattered about Across a universe of memories We We are not meant to live in the shadows We are Stardust We burn bright as Stars And then we are dust ...

Works of RK

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