Vincent

You showed us the empty boats
Vacant gardens where sunflowers
Hang their heavy heads
Cypresses waiting for us all
Beyond the flowering springtime 
Orchard.

We prisoners pace the yard
Slow motion re-creation of
Forgotten harvest dancers
The sowers make their blind way
Across the empty wheat field
Crows gathering in the trees
Beyond our sight.

The guise of reality hides eternal
Questions, but gives no rest,
Hints at no peace of mind, demands
The price of passion be paid.
Wander hungry, sleep cold, preach that gospel
No one wants told, overwhelmed 
By the infinite sadness.

You could have given us disembodied
Heads, blood like dripping jewels, 
Salome’s dance, but none of those
Eyeball balloon cactus man dreamscapes
Penetrate the veil, reveal the hidden wound
More than that faceless gray family
And their vanished dinner of potatoes.

Author: Duncan MacNae

Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees. duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com View all posts by Duncan MacNae