RoseAnn V. Shawiak Poems

Shutting out everyone, going inside to be alone upon an empty shelf.
Every memory has been explored and met, leaving me empty-minded without myself.
Looking out onto a strange world, I consider it and yell inside, wishing I could find my wealth in another land.
One so far away and distant - but when I look again, I'm still alone upon an empty shelf, wondering where I am.
...

Daily life, routines, fade into nothingness as friendship
gets caught up in the turmoil of cancer.
Pain, surgery, chemotherapy, all behind, yet their effects have taken hold and do not want to let go.
Prayer for healing continues constantly, asking Jesus to preserve our friendship for yet a while.
...

Lying awake, sweeping out my mind, getting it in shape
for tomorrow.
Dusting off images, vacuuming ideas, joining thoughts
on shelves of creation.
...

Dreaming of lifetimes spent on yesterday's shores, triggering moments of intense tradition on carefree afternoons under grape arbors, eating, talking, loving one another.
Italian respect in the foreground, even for the youngest of us, as we grew closer with every moment spent together.
Evenings under the stars, sitting in rocking chairs, eating pistachios on back and side porches.
Listening to echoes of Italian accents calling children to come in as darkness fell upon us.
...

Sleeping in trends of fantastic dreams, touching my
sleepy mind, wanting to speak silently through
written words and literature.
...

Stranded in emptiness, walking towards destinations,
looking at evening stars with whispered breaths
encased in liberty's embrace.
...

Figuratively waltzing in my head as I imagine flying a Cessna into atmospheres no one else can find.
Looping loops, enticing clouds to do the same.
Fly 8-ing through skies of blue, chasing clouds from within this body of imagination.
Floating above the ocean, watching it wave to me with frosty white arms, billowing pillow-like waves of ebbing and flowing tides.
...

Worlds fill lives of being, beginning, ending and in between.
Standing back, scanning horizons of empty thought, providing dignity of unestablished wisdom, echoing the recall of yesterday's minds.
Where is the light which shines upon knowledge of ancient times?
Has it gone on before us or has it been quietly snuffed out?
...