Leaving Tracks?
Wings take you far, but won't make a mark
Desolate the page before me lies,
Its wintry sheen not yet by print disturbed.
Silently, its lack my lack implies;
Through emptiness its blank reproach is heard.
Raucously, meanwhile, a winged thought flies
Around my head -- then two, and then a herd,
Calling wildly, darting through the skies
To realms remembered, visioned, known, absurd ...
I try to trace their captivating cries
Onto the page, but find the lines obscured.
Nothingness replies without a word.
About the Creator
Sonia Heidi Unruh
I love: my husband and children; all who claim me as family or friend; the first bite of chocolate; the last blue before sunset; solving puzzles; stroking cats; finding myself by writing; losing myself in reading; the Creator who is love.
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