“… always here.”

By J. K. McDowell

December 2014


Hear the song. The music is all around us,

All the time. Too often our worlds become smears

Of colored sand. Look closely, we are all here.


Hear the call. Your Heart is speaking to you.

Shiny distractions and whitewash indifference

Do not last. If you’re not listening, why are you here?


Hear the screams. Wounds to the Soul scar over, as throats

Are scraped raw by cruel gestures and crueler intensions.

Fingerprints of torture remain, no one is here.


Hear the whispers. Trace the shapes of lips and other

Soft places that lovers know. These imaginings

Will help you remember the dreams that brought you here.


Hear the distant thunder, storms approach despite

The sunshine.  At best the forecast is only good for

A few hours. Despite the weather, she is not here.


Hear my heart beat out of rhythm. I sympathize

James. The spirals’ touch informs and interferes. This

Is reality, the spirits are always here.