
Poetry
IT IS NOT HERE
By C.M. Harclyde WalcottMay 7, 20151 min read
they say
it is not here
at this chance meeting
exhausted
in leaky craft.
they say it
is not here
on this journey
vacant
blushing
with each wave of conceit.
they say it is
not here
among mirages where expectations not so slowly fade
void
we know what the desert is.
they say it is not here
where despair lives
that we dance
macabre movements
at the altars of political primates.
they say it is not here
but in the stillness
we do sense ancestral spirits in faint
tone
of mourning.
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C.M. Harclyde Walcott
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