Gone to Gray

Gone to Gray

Poem by Tim Reaves.

English

Your call can’t connect. Your text cannot send.
The day is bright and breezy, so you pretend
You didn’t see the mountains fall and fill;
You didn’t hear shouts and screams.

Your thoughts crest and subside, leaving lines,
Memento mori, mud-choked people crossing signs.
Sputtering candle light, taste of bitter spirits- too much,
And not enough, not enough.

Your footsteps feel atonement in the night,
Stars over Foundy, cold streetlamps, northern lights.
Someone breaking bottles on the tracks
Cries out a gale of pitiful laughing, weeping.

Dawn is the last thing of all to break, but break it does.
It smells of death and clings to everything that was.
All the color washed away. All has gone to gray.
Another day, another day.