Like a hundred jackals rapidly
licking the sun from the sky,
memories of my childhood
riot within my soul.
Their rage continues.
They are what they are.
Here, at the end of
all light, on a beach
littered with dead grunion,
I close my eyes.
I am he
whom I have sought.
Here, perhaps, I will
sing the songs
I was born to sing.
David Kowalczyk
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/catch-the-fog-then-let-it-go/
