The Quiet Inevitable

The quiet inevitable…

I found shelter from the sleet under a tree;

and sat down on a tombstone marked “You”…

So I wrote it down, and felt a little less ill;

as the sky reflected perfectly, the hue of that stone,

droplets tapped at me with an earnest insistence,

each as a tear — with it’s own story to tell…

The winter’s early darkness winds it’s way through the skeletal trees,

and seems to enshroud all like a Victorian-era cape.

Oh, my dear — the quiet inevitable. Who next to join You?

I’m sure I saw you running to me;

you’re always just ahead…

This time, just a puddle,

reflecting the movement of a busy city,

beyond the stillness of this gated world.

And yet it says:

“Bring your sorrow; your disbelief.

The duvet of fog now settled low will faithfully absorb any dolor…

There now, be calmed — nothing has changed

while everything does.”


Jon Mychal / Toronto — Jan 23 2012