When life is stolen
rather than
regret, wonderment
decision, invention,
the happenstance
of one’s creation
is the Flash composed
of years supposed
in a panoramic dream?
Child and parent visions gleaming
milliseconds and lifetimes of weaving
puzzles treasured and kept despite
the missing pieces, for
the cover art
the beautiful and haunted map of where
the fragments were to fit
the image capturing
the intended:
resumes and graduations,
rudderless shenanigans
jukebox decisions, wedding nights
obligation’s grip and lovers’ fights
dark and light; life’s sweet symphony
a once jumbled cacophony
lightened by survivors
scavengers and divers
into the sea of possibility in
the land of Should Have Been
Life supposed seems the choice of visions
Hope, however, brings revisions
behind those lids fluttering gently
the Flash loves them differently:
the smell of coming snow
counting cars, crouching low
imagination set ablaze
in secret passageways
mommy’s healing kiss and kind answers to “Why?”
daddy, the superhero, lifting oh so high
Then angels cry, sing, and greet
life before it’s bittersweet.
