Rain falls but doesn't moisten him. <br />He sees black-clad people gathered. <br />Flowers are thrown into a hole. <br />The holy man's words fall on deaf ears. <br />Blocks of stone silently watch. <br />Only days before, all was well. <br />Life was good and full. <br />He closed his eyes and then, <br />Found himself spirited away in sleep. <br />The woman cried, cradling him. <br />An unresponsive block of ice lain there. <br />He feels nothing physical, <br />But all things emotional. <br />All he is now but a mist with feelings, <br />Or a cold air that steals breath, <br />Or a memory that is bittersweet. <br />God calls him but he doesn't answer. <br />No one sees or talks to him, <br />Yet he sees all and yearns to speak. <br />The woman feels a familiar touch. <br />Tears come to her and feelings escalate. <br />She turns around and sees him. <br />Their hearts touch once more. <br />She forgets in her bewilderment and, <br />Her embraces catch nothing. <br />Unhappiness prevails. <br />The wisps of a man is all that is left. <br />Products of two worlds are always, <br />Close but always so far.<br /><br />Lauren Kapusta<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wisps-of-a-man/
