Light under frowning clouds,
a punished child; tears trail
on pale cheeks. Wind howls
crazy cries of a wounded world.

Harvest over now. Loud silence
covers abandoned fields.
Your fixed gaze weighs
heavy on my heart.

On
my way
to
another
endless
day.

Words hang around
in no-where space
never reaching your
faraway eyes or ears.

Dry, lifeless hands
outstretched,
searching,
beg for guidance.
I squeeze them a bit.


Marjon van Bruggen
November 2016