The Ends

A Poem

And so it seems

The seams are sewn

By order and revolt

In love and war

At odds

even now

The stricken form a place

Beyond the fray

Abandon the divide and

Watch it fall

Fall to bitter ends

Still she runs

Phantom of the night

Mother’s hidden tendril

A song sewn in silence

Evidence forgotten

Still she smiles

A friend returns

There is remembrance

Recollection of a greeting

Lost words in lives unspoken

We will be justified.

Here at the ends.

Here we meet again.

Here all is well.

So it seems.