
The Crossing
I dream of a ghostFaceless, floating
Over a vast and roiling river;
Beckoning, a world away
Past mountains insurmountable
And deserts divide
A foreign land scarred
With twisted fractel paths
I dream of a ghost
A profile silhouette
And hear words whispered
Like chaff on the wind,
'I'm waiting...'
I stretch the cords
That bind me to my world;
Still, they hold.
I dream of a ghost
Face in shadow
I see the bridge now
And hear whispered,
'Cross with me...'
This land is not mine
Are those words for me?
I look around but can't see
The light is too bright.
There's so far to go.
I dream of a ghost
And wonder
If it was only a dream.
January 2009
Poetry by Nancy Sikora
Read 1551 times
Written on 2011-01-25 at 14:45
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