There, in the upper regions of the sky
Where the black circle of cloud circles slowly around the moon
Where the stars vanish into the blackness of the night
I found a glistening speck of color that reminds me
Of my mist-colored wish to travel back in time.
I would be like a lit-up Jack-o-Lantern on a Halloween night
Sitting on the darkness of the porch
Lighting the jeweled door throughout the night
And each time the door opened, a most noble woman
Would hand every guest the most regal fruit from a basket.
I would be like a triumphant golden hammer
Swinging back through time to that tall and craggly tree
Whose branches stretch out like free, jagged lightning
And I would swing with passionate precision
To that one undetectably hammered-in nail
Which had been slammed into the tree with blind, raging madness
Into the thick black wooden armor of the ancient, freshly-wounded tree
And I would pull out the unfeeling nail with one swift, arcing maneuver
As a gathering pack of dogs stared in silent, cathartic victory
With their bright, golden, compassionate eyes.
I would be like an encoded letter
Written by a wartime spy, who was walking painfully upstream
In the river of history, a letter on its way to a band of soldiers
Who were so close to the salvation of many
Who were so near to the garment of dignity
Bleary-eyed, covered with mud, staring without fear into the darkness.
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