Words Left Behind

I.
I'm not here now
but the leaves are golden
and the sky has turned
for me that shade of blue
for which I am grateful,
and will always remember.

II.
We're not home now,
but the willow tree
in the front yard
stands firm in the earth,
two white clouds
shaped like the heads
of prehistoric beasts
roll slowly toward the east.

III.
We're out, but please
know our flesh has not paled,
our spirits float upward
on the slightest wind,
and the minutes spin round
the yard, and the world
is dizzy as a bicycle.

IV.
Please leave behind
a message, speak clearly
and we will become your message,
we will change into your words,
some of us only syllables
and tell everyone
your deepest secrets.

V.
I'm not anywhere now,
I hope to be born
sometime, so if you are there,
if your life makes sense,
tell me what I need to know--
why the world keeps me secret,
why the dullest darkest child
enters the world
like the brightest stars
on a summer's night.

Ernest Slyman


-->