Winging On

mortality beckons

part of: Tales from the First Generation

by Tzirth Chandoor

the past wakes up with a bang
oh, gosh, yes I knew it was there.

where would it go

living as it does
between my neurons clapping their
dendrite hands to make the magic
of memory, thought,
shocks of sudden passion.

I miss you. You appear as yourself
in my mind and my heart
contracts in pain

dead these twenty years.
kindred spirit wandering alone
through these halls we called time,
dreaming as children do when left to their
own devices.

thank you.
son to my mother and father
whose hearts
beat for their family,
giving strength.
giving love.

I am still here
and you are all gone.
I don’t want to lose what little
is left of you
floating between my neurons.

as they die one by one

you die too. but, soon i will no longer be
so far behind