The Dust to Settle

The dust will never settle
from that great explosion
of terror and grief.
No it will never settle.
But is it too hopeful to think
that the dust will one day augment
the colors of sunsets
wherein the particle filled air is charged
with beauty captured like shining souls,
or the memory of such,
in stained glass windows
through which we see
those we loved and lost
gesturing us to move on —
feel the streams of light and dust
intermingling as if in a dance
of release and beatitude
swirling, swirling in dervish dazzle
that moves us to our knees? — Annette Marie Smith

Ghost Ships

The sky’s deep waters
at the shore of vision.
Out on the horizon
sails fill with the widdershins winds
of change.
Sehnsucht song fills the air.
September is a sea
rising against the restraining wall of the year.
All the ships, all the ships, on the sea of air
are Skithblathnirs
piloted by ghosts.
See how the tall ships dance so close
but never touch
in their incorporeal flair. — Annette Marie Smith