Matt Eayre/Uneven Street


Would that I could,

relief from this burden eludes my grasp

We lived, we loved,

I live still

and those remaining

I should have drawn near, in precious embrace and to enjoy the love we felt

I should have kept hands clasped with brother and sister,

love ought not be discarded

and my failure it is,

my weakness on display

chasms of emotion unexplored in such cowardly fashion

distance travelled by my feet lies between our shared memories of those went ahead,

all the times I stole from us,

I pray forgiveness

Whiskey helps in its unhelpful way

I weep easily through fog and sing the old songs, this day and that

might he have found a way? I ask knowing that his life held no semblance of a good turn

too many questions remain in their places, unwelcome dinner guests and the table is silent,

a feast of sorrow

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Author: Nicholas Gagnier

Poet and writer. Ottawa, ON, Canada

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