From Richard Dana Brody
Poem also at
Poetry
A glimpse of light appears on silhouettes of mountain peaks. The night has been long. My eyes see what I feel... shadows moving. Silence, not even a breeze. Great winged moths have ceased their shrill and multitudes of insects call no longer. Nor do the frogs make their presence known, in center of the darkened sky -- alone. Light and color entwine. Below the mist a small figure moving, alive! These rotting sandbags surrounded me too long and, what have I to fear? Shadows aren't real! Magazine locked, making my rounds. Feel the presence. The mountain, the valley filled with unmarked graves. Mist no longer hides the smell of rice paddies I fill my nostrils, at least its real. Sky full of color now, and the mountains a pretty sight with the green of the valley framed in four-inch squares. Rusting barbs between me and the sunrise.Richard Dana Brody
Copyright ©2005 Richard Dana Brody