For Shannon Nicole Paulk | Poem

For Shannon Nicole Paulk

The falling of leaves in autumn, are the whispers and sighs of those who stood around you,
healing the wounds they suffered, when against the gray dark wilderness, they found you
with rosey wreaths, propted in the sandy dirt.

It made us aware of a season dying. That night, sounded the breaking of hearts inside us.
Now, when this season comes, it hides us in all the silence a world could give, to heal the hurt.
But, a hurt that never went away, yet, stays in small rooms of our hearts, and somehow,
still finds you... drifting alone in our conscience.

-David T. Culver

 

To Voice, the Butterfly

"Far and away, in the distance of a field,
she runs, she plays, in all my tomorrows."

Autumn winds move the dry dust,
as spirits move the leaves about.
The wind moves all things in circles,
but only those things which touch me,
I know are you.

The stones, though they carry no voice to hear,
tremble in dark shadows of mourning.
And as eyes of yours, through my eyes peer,
looking out beyond my human fears,
there's a peace overwhelming inside the flame,
that walks us from darkness,
or afflicted shame, for those of us,
who keep our voice.

How could one imagine such a simple thing;
we all let lose of life beyond our wing,
where just beyond our touch and feel,
becomes a silence that often steals,
away their voices, in the rain.

For a mother in her grief, in quiet ruins of your soul,
let n'er her window be closed inside you.
Of all your memories, to these be drawn,
that from this life, one child, one heart goes on.
And if you've come to see her rose is gone,
she, will come to stand beside you.

As you pause, and turn, in your times alone,
when softly, first starlights of twilight come,
be attentive to movements, of days' last light-
may you notice the butterfly, while in her flight,
it's wings, shall lift  her, from her plight-
such small replies, we rely upon.
For her breath, is in the wind, and is carried on.

No candle left burning, should lose her flame,
on the day, the heart of a world was broken.
From a distance, I could feel the hurt, and pain,
in search of rainbows, inside the rain...

I vowed, I'd not let her be forgotten.
Far and away, in the distance of a field,
she runs, she plays, in all my tomorrows.
Here, grief, may find some way to heal,
though, unless spring returns one daffodil,
autumn, may never move my sorrow.

For 'twas grief, that rekindled a hidden fire-
prayers locked away, from long ago.
Now, 'tis love in my heart, that takes me there...
to stand alone... to mourn.

May you always fly...
always, and forever...
we are never, really alone.

- David Culver

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