January 7-February 14, 2020


he found he walked

from evening into darkness

trading isolation for a loneliness

wrapped within a silence

far too deep for breath

or words, even

chasm deep enough for the tears

pride would not let fall


or courage,

or something like

which held his smile


even as his heart


into the question at the end

of too big an empty

for life to flow around

too small, far, far too small

for life to enter


weeping tears unseen

for the abundance

of absent time


and if you asked him of it

of the day hes scarce surviving

in the instant between shoe and door

he could but squeeze a weak


into a silence cut short by haste

could but paste band aid smiles

on the pain scornful any balm

wish you well into your way


He Walked
A poem by Peter Rhebergen

Copyright 2020

Each New Day A Miracle
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