Reckoning
A Big Wind rattles glass and frame,
From greenhouse, a child calls my name.
A word, warning, waking anew—
stepping into worlds once walked through.
I tread root cellars, dampness weeps
from shadows like snakes, bats and creeps.
The scent of cuttings, raw and bright,
mingles with something far from right.
Macabre echoes from pasts undone,
where voices shiver, one by one.
“I am!” said lamb—urgent refrain,
The fire’s shape flickers in vain.
Storms arrive in far fields beyond,
The meadow mouse and fate foregone.
The geranium wilts its cup,
while sloth and lull swallow me up.
In a dark time, I once did dwell,
a journey into the interior hell.
Yet, like a visitant, I return once more,
seeking the thing, right past the door.
I recall her grace, how I knew a woman
who danced through pain, whose steps grew human.
A reckoning, a turning, a night journey near—
her voice still lingers, distant, clear.
Through the darkness, past the remains,
I reach the threshold—courage feigns—
Open door, empty house, haunting,
Worlds reformed from ashes daunting.
WoPoLi 
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