A late night,
or early morning
listening to Gill-Scott Heron
singing about prisons
and a sense of loss.
And the words keep coming.

I know about loss.

Each day I struggle with the
echoes of another world, imported
into dialogue.

A tired pen trying to catch an
errant voice passing by,
struggling to find the right words.
Now, suffering autumn’s castigation
lamenting in my awareness.

And Gill-Scott Heron, now he is
singing about no rain, no rain
and how to survive on sadness.

I get this…..