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Array
(
[sid] => 148242
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => unmoved (an old man's dreams)
[time] => 2009-02-28 23:33:52
[hometext] => always, abraham
[bodytext] => Together, our hearts were the sounds of sand shifting quietly across the desert sky as the sun rose with roaring thunder and poured the blood and glory of the morning storm over the western sea. I remember well the white and violet moment of your birth, your quiet fear dispersing in the pitch and wails of crowded, snowy hours, stretching your eyes sideways to catch my smile at the rivers of your red blond hair. My hands trembled the first time I held you, closed gently and in fear of your frailty, trembling even as you showed the strength of your fingers, trembling now though you are long departed and unmoved by an old man’s dreams. What is the love that cannot touch you, the windows of your tears held before you to know the vast uncertainty of the morning sky, dabbled lights above you that pierced the shallows of your eyes? I dreamed the window rained the simple nature of your hands, where larger, sterile hands supported you, and the lights of an ever-growing city painted the spring sky blue of your eyes a hazel and auburn flush, and you were growing older, and unafraid of love. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 243 [topic] => 39 [informant] => iodinelove [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Grief )
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