Whisps

A Poem by Rebecca Guthery

If a camera can see

The realms that we cannot,

Why, oh silver eye,

Can you not see the night sky?

You lie to me, metal box, just as the mirrors do

But I suppose that’s something to be expected

what’s made by man is never true.

I’m sitting here now, ink flowing on the page,

As I watch pure energy silently rage.

On and on with nowhere to go

stretching hopelessly in it’s cage,

Until all else burns, it will flow

In a pit it pays it’s wage,

Crying over its dying glow.

Say, I wonder if that’s where whisps grow?

 

While here on earth, the smoke blows in my face

Something the camera cannot see

I wonder if my spirit is the same here as up in space

But maybe if we had half a mind at all…

We wouldn’t rely on silver eyes to set us free.

 

The stars are my open canvas

I want to cut it free

I feel as if I threw blade in the sky

It would burst with a flip, spin, turn

A crack, a chasm, in Jesus’ name

Into the world unknown

I want to see it, to reach, to tumble,

But doing so would only cause my mind to stumble.

What’s this?

Something’s repelling my pen from this page

Like my mind from all that makes sense.

Yet tomorrow this will all be a memory.

What is every person doing right now, I wonder?

Can they read the things they see, like me?

Or do they course through life on autopilot,

Their mind’s in slumber?

Tall trees, tall trees, I want to feel what the sky’s touch is like!

The Star, the Star, the Star in the Night sky!

Surely You’ll never lie.

How long did Your light travel

To get to You and I?

You send pure past through Your rays,

Say, is that the light that shined when I was younger?

Where did it go, where has it been, I wonder?

Oh night sky, oh bright starts!

I wish you’d cover all my scars.

You’re the only reason people believe me when I say

I can see memories in light rays.