Translations

A bit raw.
A bit empty.
The echoes haunt
in the morning light.

Ghosts linger. Quiet.
Almost at peace,
as if they have nothing left
to say,

allowing their precence
to make their statements
and leaving us
to translate.

About this poem

Started with the first line and no destination. Looking at it now I see last night’s roughness, sick (better now). I see my depression. I see how we all look at our lives and our ghosts through different lenses, so different it is a wonder anything real gets translated,

The photograph was taken at the Hollins Chapel in Hollins College, Va.

Be well, travel wisely.

Tom