Photo by Anton Darius on Unsplash
sunlight knew your face at one point then
it didn’t as the wind sighed your name
like watercolor smudged memories
even years before seeds knew it was time to rise.
now your absence is the pause with which we speak
commas–between, around, undergound,
evading the fact that you’re nowhere to be found.
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This poem is an entry to Vocal's acrostic challenge:
About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
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