by Victoria Twomey

when I had the simple mind of a child
you were always by my side
 
now I am a learned traveler
understanding nothing
 
I look for you in spires
pointing the way to someone else’s heaven
 
in clanging bells
in stories painted on colored glass
 
in anticipation of approaching thunder
in the sky, struck dumb by blinding light
 
in curving river paths
etched with the tip of your finger
 
in the prairie made smooth
with the palm of your hand
 
come close
and speak to me as you once did
 
I long to hear your voice
painted as before, with summer rain
 
cure me of this inner silence
infuse me with your immaculate song
 
make yourself small enough to sit beside me
to hold my imperfect, fragile hand
 
make me simple once more
that I may accept the journey to come
 
come close, for there are foreign lands ahead 
I cannot face alone

Victoria Twomey is a poet and an artist in equal measure. She has appeared as a featured poet at venues around NY, including the Hecksher Museum of Art, The Poetry Barn, Barnes & Noble, and Borders Books. Her poems have been published in several anthologies, in newspapers and on the web, including Sanctuary Magazine, BigCityLit, PoetryBay, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, the Tipton Poetry Journal, Verse-Virtual and The Agape Review. Her poem “Pieta” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

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