Lou J. Klaiber

THE FAR LAND

History
has become
all of fire,

and rainbows drifting
toward home,

… far
above,
and alone.

Just birds,
flying away
from death,
………calling my name.

… falling
upon all the names upon a wall
silent… hoping…
waiting,

for
just one more
tomorrow.

Minute to
minute.

Hour to
hour.

Day
to day.

… the month of years
and old dreams,
………and all the tears of women
so long ago,

who held us in the night time
of remembrance.

Women who remembered us
and forgave the dark angels
that haunted our souls.

Women who love us
………as we fall away
forever,

… never
at home.

Forgotten!

… and alone.