LONELINESS

Has it been
as lonely,
a winter as mine?
The storminess has shaken
Heaven's masterpiece.
Joni Mitchell, sorrowfully echoes
simpatico in weeping rhythm.
                     
It is dark now,
and the fresh burial place
seems almost invisible.
Still, these souls
await resurrection.
                     
My loneliness is layered,
filed within my brain.
At times I glimpse my profile.
I view, I feel, I ponder, I worry.

I examine with tears,
and despair over all I have done,
and all I have failed to do.

These sins of omission
paralyze my memory and
haunt me in winter;
as I bury a mother or a sister.
                     
Today I scratch something,
anything, on parchment
if only to find meaning,
or a sign to show
I have lived.