Saturday, November 5, 2011


canyon wide 

those days were sheltered by 
dreams and pregnant with 
potential.  we shed tears for 
the past, for the fears of our 
being; we sealed our common
bond to the hurt of longing. 

but those fears, pangs of 
suspense and insecurities 
ruled the moment, and future.
there were pasts that needed to 
be purged, but how, within the
absolute quantification of being? 

how do we reveal what need not
be known except by only one?
beyond probings - the unrevealing of 
knowledge - probings again, and 
imagined pasts that did not, and 
do not exist, enough was 

there are voices choking to shout
across the canyon of what was 
foretold, but depth is deep, 
width is wide.  echos, loud and 
shrill are exhausted, and the path
begs for sleep. 

Poem ©2011 R. Burnett Baker 


  1. your poem is covered with sort of a knowing
    or wise melancholy - and I can relate to
    wanting an echo of the past.

  2. I see it a little differently. I can't find the Rick I've gotten to know in this post. I wonder what was so different here.