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  • John Grey

The life in hand

John Grey


The dark is after your eyes,

your once sharp mind.

People no longer know

how to represent themselves

in your presence.

You shake your head.

Their faces

aren’t good enough

for recognition.

I must act quickly

if any of your light

is to be saved.


So I take hold of your wheelchair,

push you in a hundred directions:

to the sound of crashing surf,

garden bird song,

busy shopping streets,

even into that embracing world

of the soap opera.

I turn you in directions

you once would have turned

on your own.

I move you the distances

you long ago managed

in half the time.


And the silence has come

for your voice, your breath,

the beating of your heart.

I make a sound on your behalf,

the creak of the surface,

the rattle of the wheels.


 

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, North Dakota Quarterly and Lost Pilots. Latest books, ”Between Two Fires”, “Covert” and  “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in California Quarterly, Seventh Quarry, La Presa and Doubly Mad.

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