an old writer and his words

  • LAUGHTER

    Each night the gallinules begintheir laughter, passing it from oneto another until you are no longer certainjust how many of them there are, butyou want to know just what comedythey are watching and put it on your list.But they are interrupted by the shadowsand the cry of the night Heronsdeparting for another night of huntingannouncing…

    Lou Faber

  • SPRING RAIN

    The last flowers rain downfrom the cherry trees, a pervasivesadness announcing summer’s approach.We would welcome it, but wefear its possible wrath for allseasons show their anger to us.as if to cast blame on us for ignoringtheir beauty, their bounty, assumingtheir offerings will recur despiteour misbegotten changes to whatthey have always relied on, our arroganceand greed…

    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

  • NIGHT WALK

    I walked the cityin the heart of the night,streetlights casting the shadowsof ghosts of those long goneto bed, unknowingthat the city has beengiven over to ravening windsthat find no shelter.I step into an alcoveand the fading lightof the flickering bulb overheadurges me to move onlest she bury mein the darkness of her grave.By day, this…

    Lou Faber

  • HORIZON

    He was always lookingto the horizon, as if tomorrowwould provide some small hintof what was to come, knowingthe shadows of yesterday wouldalways be trailing behind him, hisalbatross of unfulfilled dreams.He knew it was a futile searchthat he was wasting his presentfor a future that would arrive on its terms,but compulsions were things hehad been powerless…

    Lou Faber

  • CAMERA OBSCURED

    People stand in awelooking at what Ansel Adams’camera saw on those magical days.I am an outlier, for althoughI am struck by the beautyHis photographs offer my eyes,the stark play of light and dark,how shadows define a world,that is not what I wishthat I could see, for I wantnothing more than to seewhat Ansel Adams sawwith…

    Lou Faber

  • BEING A PART

    He wanted, most of all, to bea part of something, butsomething that had never existed,a dissonance in an orderly universethat was slowly devolving into chaos.He was a shadow, seen only by dayand often ignored, not invisible, but nearly so.He would soon emerge from the darkness,welcome the day, the sun’s too briefappearance, his footsteps would echoa…

    Lou Faber

  • MORNING

    The clocks have begrudginglyshifted again, the earlymorning lost in darknessbarely illuminated by a waning moon.The fronds of the Royal Palm’swhisper “we are here, waitfor us.” But they are mere shadowsbegging for dawn’s arrival.Finally the sun engulfs the starswatching over the horizon,the fronds say “look at me,I will give you an infinitepalette of green that will…

    Lou Faber

  • THE HERMIT

    The hermit livesin the shadowof the great mountainlistening to the symphonyof the bluebirdand the wild Roseengulfed by the sky,the meandering streamhis constant companion.I live in a cityin a sea of city dwellerseach of us prisonersmarching from cellto cell, with passing nods.we hear only solitudeand are blindto the ever shifting clouds.Kuan Yin sitsin her templeand whispers…

    Lou Faber

  • ME AND MY . . .

    I didn’t stopto think it at all oddthat when I walked backwardthis morning my shadowdecided to walk ahead of me.I was going to ask him whyhe decided to lead, butas I turned to walk backto the car he fell insilently behind meand refused to answeras the clouds came over usand he slipped away again.

    Lou Faber