an old writer and his words

  • NEXT STOP

    It is small, dark and desolate,tucked away in a cornerthat no one wants to visit.They all stop there, as required,but only rarely does anyoneget off and it always seemsa sudden, reluctant decision.Most don’t even peer out the windowswhen it stops there, they averttheir gaze wondering if anyonewill rise to leave, not wantingto be seen looking,…

    Lou Faber

  • THE VEIL OF TIME

    I still search for you behind the veilof time; I cannot look away.I wonder what you saw that night,what you felt in that unexpected,unwanted moment you couldn’t escape.I know I am struggling to reach intoa world I do not yet wish to enter,but all I recall are your eyes, notas they were that night but…

    Lou Faber

  • BREATHE DEEPLY

    Funerals can be such incredibly sadevents, and rightly so for farewellsare never easy, especially final ones.But the deceased doesn’t benefit,only the mourners do and it isfor them that the events are held.When my time comes, if my familychooses to have one, and I will haveno say in the matter so don’t ask,I do have a…

    Lou Faber

  • STILL MOURNING

    I think about you often, lying besidemy grandparents on the hillsideoverlooking the Kanawha River,bathed in the utter silencethat only the dead can clearly hear.I think of you more often than shewho replaced you, she who laterreplaced me with her own, Ian adjacency, still useful butno longer fully or truly valued.I think of you lovingly, knowingfor…

    Lou Faber

  • A GIFT

    As your birthday approaches, Mother,I should pause and thank youfor your bequest of grace, a gift youleft me on you passing ten years beforeI found you, found myself again.It was more than the helical part of methat finally became apparent, morethan a heritage imagined but unknown.It was something as simple asa college yearbook picture, for…

    Lou Faber

  • VISITORS

    As much as he needed sleephe had grown to dread itfor each night they visited him,always whispering, he strainingto hear if they had wisdom to offeror were simply there to mock,to plague him, as recompense for someimagined sin, some innocent mistakeor simply because eternity canfairly quickly become boring.He knows their number willonly grow over time…

    Lou Faber

  • AT GRAVESIDE

    It is odd that cemeteries arequite often the site of oration,soliloquies delivered with great emotion,be it love, regret or anger.Often they are paeans or jeremiadsmeant to be delivered in personbut held back until it is only the stonethat bears the brunt of the words.And yet a burden is liftedfrom the speakers for they assumethe dead…

    Lou Faber

  • STILL MOURNING

    I think about you often, lying besidemy grandparents on the hillsideoverlooking the Kanawha River,bathed in the utter silencethat only the dead can clearly hear.I think of you more often than shewho replaced you, she who laterreplaced me with her own, Ian adjacency, still useful butno longer fully or truly valued.I think of you lovingly, knowingfor…

    Lou Faber

  • SADNESS

    He never stopped to take noticethat his anger had given wayto a deep sadness, onehe felt had him trapped, searchingthrough the pain for an exitfrom a place he never imaginedhe would leave willingly.He had promised her a lifetime,a statement he took as a truthnot considering that her promise,whatever it had been, had becomeviolable, the pain…

    Lou Faber

  • SUZY

    What do you sayon the loss of a child?We sat in the loungedrinking a vile potionfrom a hollowed pineapple,giggling insanelyfor no reason.We wandered the tunnelsfaces painted,clowns in bedlam.We lay togetheron a mattresson the floor and listenedto Aqualungmy arms around youboth, but sleepcame slowly and we talkeduntil night ran fromthe encroaching sun. I can feel her…

    Lou Faber