Upon Staring at the Sky

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I’m staring down,
glancing tentatively into the darkness below,
and I see fog, thick and hazy –
a perfect symbolism to the yearnings in my heart.
I long to see you again, to know
that I’ve done right by your lasting memory.

The air above is lighter, and sparkles with what I imagine
to be the tears of angels as they walk on by.
Tears shed as they watch me struggling, grasping for a
subtle message from loved ones departed.
I miss you.
I wish there were a way to slow the passage of time,
pausing momentarily to see the situation before me
with sane clarity.
Instead I gaze out of eyes clouded by emotion,
overwhelming in the way my feelings contradict
what truth logic should speak.

With nothing left to do,
little else I’ve yet to explain,
I jump off my sky-scraping beam of light.
Set adrift in the angels’ weeping to
the harsh reality of society below.
Back to a world of those left behind
that pace in circles
while trying to make sense
of their grief.

I guess I’ve stopped trying to understand
the words I speak when I pray to God. What I thought
were messages born anew from the pain in my soul
have become redundant, and I’m tired of shouting to the sky.
Now is the time to listen. Try to retrieve with my sensitive ears
A faint drop of something I can call a sign from Heaven.

I’ll be looking for the rainbows that exist only on hot, steamy days,
glancing upwards and telling myself it’s
your face I see in the clouds.





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