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.
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