The Return of Primordial Night

our parent’s ghosts harvested wildflowers
near the beach at Big Sur

they were deaf to the threat in thunder,
but we were trapped in the rain and waves
and the overflow from the melting ice

weeds began to grow in freezers and
once the lights went out the rugs unraveled,
and the sheep reclaimed their wool

the computers went down
their screens black as the wicked water,
in whirling chaos they morphed into drums

every fetus turned in the womb,
the men went to the mountain tops
and the women sheltered in caves

the souls of saints and sinners
were run through a cosmic wash cycle
after the spin dry, we started anew

only the shades of our parents remain,
they’re waiting for us at Big Sur
buried under the Santa Lucia Mountains

© 2012, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved
Painting ~ La Nuit by William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825 – 1905) via Wikipedia and in the public domain.

JAMIE DEDES ~ My worldly tags are poet and writer. For the past five years I’ve blogged at The Poet by Day,the journey in poem, formerly titled Musing by Moonlight.  Through the gift of poetry (mine and that of others), I enter sacred space.