I dreamt of you last night.
I dreamt you called my name,
And I reached and I reached
Into the void, for centuries
Reached until my fingers pulled and thinned,
Bones cracking, popping out of joint.
And still I reached on,
Ligaments stretching, muscles tearing,
Ribs ripping and separating.
I tore myself apart, spread out into the black
And never, never reached you.
– s. Clark
I will learn to take the pain
And place it on a shelf.
I will pretend so long, so well
that I convince myself.
– s. Clark
I can’t hold you.
The days come, and they go.
Storms build amidst the winter snow.
I shiver as the sharp winds blow.
And I can’t hold you.
The moments swell and fall.
The sun shines down, the robins call.
I fill pages with pointless scrawl.
And I can’t hold you.
And there are other arms
That try to heal me of the harm,
That I can hold to keep me warm.
But I can’t hold you.
The world goes on and on.
The sun may rise, but brings no dawn,
Just vacant rage. For you are gone.
And I can’t hold you.
– s. Clark
By now, I think
there will always be the ghost
of who I was
before I lost you,
standing on the path behind me,
where I left her,
staring down in confusion
at the bloodstained footprints
trailing the part of me
that moved on,
fixed forever to that spot,
horrified by the nightmare,
waiting,
waiting to wake up.
– s. Clark
How wonderful and rare it is
In this odd and untidy earth
To find a soul akin to yours,
That understands your wild mirth
How wonderful and rare as well,
And tragic as the winter rain
To find a soul that also shares
The hollow echo of your pain
– s. Clark
Shigé Clark Writing 