The dead need light,
(If they need anything at all, that is…)
As much as the living need music.They crave the kind of light
That brings babies’ faces to mind again, and
Spring blooms, and waves dancing on a beach they once knew.Eternity is a long, long time.
But still… they rememberThe way the stars swept across
the sky on a clear night,
the way a bumblebee looks as it
lumbers around, amazingly.They need the lights of Paris,
twinkling with promise
drawing a halo of innocence around
young lovers by the river.The dead crave to see, again,
those two eyes, open,
moist with tears, catching the light
of a streetlight in
breathtaking flecks of gold and green.They remember, with a hopeless ache, the way
moonlight played on a lover’s
hip as she slept, a fleeting memory
burned forever in light,
a hand lightly stroking
just to make sure she was real.
9 Replies to “The Dead Need Light”
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HemmingPlay 
Marvelous poem, I absolutely love it. The fist stanza is brilliant, setting the tone beautifully for the entire piece. Enjoy your Wednesday. ~ Mia
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My Wednesday just got better, Mia. Thank you. Yesterday was a good day. 🙂
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You’re welcome. 🙂
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That was mesmorizing.
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Thank you! A bit of an experiment.
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Always good to try something out!
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Just Tweeted it by the way…only since a few days ago have I got my head around this Twitter thing.
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I’ll run with that…bit of a modern day classic there what with gifts of prevailing light and the odd ‘get real’ eternity being eternity threats of darkness.
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