A Country Alone

People Over Politics, World Over Wealth!


Himself ~ Philip Brent Harris

The organ’s sonorous voice
carries the mourners from
the church out into a rain
of tears flooding a bright,
sunny day. fuzzing sight,
and calling the past present.
Too much food; some of it
strange that we’ll never eat.
Fueled by memory, sharing.
potluck casseroles, alcohol,
we will laugh too loudly or
not loudly enough, when we
fight our tears. Worried if they
begin, they’ll never ever stop
again. Sorrow a close relative
to pain. Neither will be truly
remembered, though, we tell
ourselves they’ll last forever

How do we convey fire, rain,
the giggling voice of bright
rivulets in the stream, the
waterfall’s roar, a mountain’s
fuming silence. Knowing they
are images vignettes, emotion
hidden in motion, solitude.
Traded glances, the slurred
voices of two drunks arguing
over the meaninglessness of
meaning. The meaning of
mourning and what is meant
by any other means with
which we want to express it.
Do we run, faint, refuse to
confront the monster lodged
within the cave buried in
the deepest depths of us.

Come, lay down with me,
with the living and the dead.
Which will we choose to be
this time or the next. Though
what follows has come before,
will come again, like the sunrise
and every sunset. Twilight
indistinguishable from minutes
just before the sun has risen.
As if time were to stop. We’d
never know one face from the
other, and indeed we don’t,
Hidden within a country alone.


Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength,

Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment

Unite the World!


See more of my creative offerings at:

Philip Brent Harris Fine Art, Digital Art and Photography

Himself ~ Philip Brent Harris


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