Typewriter Series #2774 by Tyler Knott Gregson*Please Subscribe...

Typewriter Series #2774 by Tyler Knott Gregson

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If I could thin the veil, stretch it like canvas
until its gauntness renders transparency,
if I had hands that knew the way to hold
the edges of that world and this,
strength to pull until overlapped, who
among the lost would I see again?

What would you say to me, grandfathers
departed and overlooking, what would you
offer in these times, would you be proud
of what you see in me, would I be
known to you, me of new wrinkle and
softer voice, of hands showing age
and the mistakes of youth?  

Grandmother, are you resting, are you
safe there?  Did you find peace with me
in this time we’ve spent apart,
we of strong spirits often on opposite
sides of understanding.  Know that I
loved you dearly, that I do, still.

Friends, too many at this age, too many
by your own hands, why did you go?
I am sorry I did not know the darkness
you swam through, I am sorry
I did not jump in to swim beside you
until you admitted your fatigue and
held tight to my back.  I had enough strength
to bring you to shore, and so I stand
on it, looking out at the dark waters,
listening for the sound of your voice
as waves find sand in the soft glow
of some moonlight.  

I will stand still and believe in ghosts,
in your silhouette just beyond the fabric
of worlds that splits us, I will see
the indentation of your fingertips pressing
towards mine, and I will reach out
to touch them.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-