“When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows.” Martin Luther King, Jr. As I stood near the edge of a tall cliff, my feet felt the sharp stones through my worn sneakers. A whispering voice in my weary mind created illusions veiled in unreality as my emotions tumbled down into the ravine far below. I was mesmerized by the way my emotions caressed the sides of the cliff, then fell gently into the brook at the bottom while the rough ones bounced from boulder to boulder shattering into pieces. Everything was lost, which was once mine, they had vanished into the sound of sighing breath. I was shadowed by clouds scudding slowly above me in the sky. I bent over to look far down into the chasm at the thin blue line flowing like a scene in a dream, felt my body swaying in the breeze, and sensed something gently pulling at my body. I looked to the sky and wondered if this was where I was meant to be. I closed my eyes and saw long lost memories soaring in my sorrowful mind. I told myself that the elusive peace that I had sought all my life could never be found: Grief’s dust sung its despondent song in my mind. There were no church bells pealing in the wind, but a mockingbird sang its stolen songs, and a mourning dove cooed its words of woe into my mind as I looked into the caverns of my pain. The sky was like an ancient panorama, the dawn bleeding crimson across the meadow far below. Shadowy figures appeared in the mist, and a whispering voice started dissolving my memories into scrambled thoughts. I wondered if this was the exit door to the final act in the sad opera of my life. My feet inched slowly forward, and I became aware that my journey might be coming to an end. Suddenly, my concentration was broken, and my self-absorbed essence was taken by the hand over the cliff and down into the mist below. I felt gravity pulling at my body, but it no longer mattered. It was later in the night that I awakened from the nightmare in a cold sweat and sighed.
About the Poet:
James G. Piatt, a retired professor and octogenarian, is a twice Best of Net nominee and three time Pushcart nominee.
He has had five poetry books, “The Silent Pond,” (2012), “Ancient Rhythms,” (2014), “LIGHT,” (2016),
“Solace Between the Lines,” (2019), and Serenity, (2022), which has just been released, over 1740 poems,
five novels, seven essays and thirty-five short stories published in over 260 magazines, anthologies and books.
He earned his doctorate from BYU, and his BS and MA from California State Polytechnic University, SLO.