First day of the new year -
the sky and white shadows
appear brilliant -
pale gold sunlight.

No one exists today.
Former boy friends
walk on by.
Some hide in dark corners,
under dim streetlights,
in misty old movie settings-
newspapers pulled over their masks.
Others sing mantras
on grassy slopes
near mountains as high as Everest.

One man is wrapped in a woven shawl,
caresses his mala beads over and over,
as I journey in an opposite direction.
He eats pomegranates and green leaves-
too tall to do yoga-
so he goes to other dimensions,
while I wash blankets by hand,
wringing out anger and frustrations-
rationalizing over and over
so much that
it becomes an art form,
a thesis,
and I receive a doctorate.

Yes, no one exists today except
the ghosts of the past-
the ones who come to disturb my
peace seeking,
my constant craving for ways
to find love and
my self-
Still searching
for my inner strengths
and spiritual songs.

No one exists.
I erase these men from my mind.
Slowly they begin to dissolve.
I still see their outlines
walking like cartoons around my house -
sitting in the air-
making themselves at home.
They are not welcome.
The past cannot be undone.
It is never accurate -
often exaggerated, minimalized,forgotten-
Pictures are lost
wrinkled, folded,
put in recycle bins
where sometimes
a stranger finds one
and wonders who that stranger
in the picture is
and writes about them.

And the old poetry books
sell for a few dollars at bazaars-
sometimes they gather dust
at salvations army bins for months
until someone
sees,reads something interesting,
and the writings are transported
to someones bookcase,
gathering dust.

It is a dusty world.
The sun today is exceptionally beautiful-
such a strong word,
so easy to use-
too tired to play with zen minimalist
image words,
reflecting seasons
and be here now moments,
circles of ripples of water,
circles of life,
emptiness,
nothingness,

No one exists today...

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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