Christopher Withers Poems
|42.||The Shimmering Sun's Eternal Wake||11/23/2006|
|43.||The Watcher Is Watched||9/17/2014|
|44.||They Come, They Play||12/4/2008|
|45.||Thoughts Of An Atheist||11/15/2006|
|46.||Time's Swift Beat||2/27/2008|
|47.||Together We Crumble, Stumble, And Fall||11/16/2006|
|53.||Witness Of The Modern Age||5/16/2009|
vision stunted by past deeds
leading to my current place,
childhood face: disconnected,
now adrift on stagnant lake.
cynicism scrawls the map
leading to my resting place,
a symptom of a drying mind,
what once was fluid, now is blind.
each denial of childhood dream
fractures now my world it seems.
mothers tears dried in her grave,
childhood view: never saved.
needing the bathroom late at night, silently,
i feel my way through the darkness,
slowly across the bedroom floor.
being careful not to trip or bang, i’m
suddenly reminded of a childhood game, one
in which i’d attempt to silently descend
what were surely the creakiest stairs in the world
(in my childhood memory at least)
without my parents waking