The Dead
“The dead endure.” - Nancy Morejon
They are always going away
They cross the street, go out of sight
Step in a doorway’s shadow
In an oak tree’s shadow
They step towards the sunlight blazing on a rose bush
And carry some sunlight down to a hidden river
The river is darker than the deep grass beside it
And the dead sing to themselves there,
With remembered voices,
As they strum the long river grass
© Mike James 2022
Mike James makes his home in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. He has published in hundreds of magazines, large and small, and has performed his poetry at universities and other venues throughout the country. He has been nominated for multiple Pushcarts, as well as for the Paterson Poetry Prize. In April, Redhawk published his 20th collection Portable Light: Poems 1991-2021.
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