I’m lying near the attic window
an old house transplanted from its original home
we’ve all been transplanted from our original homes
I’ve been transplanted to this original home
the date is September the 23rd the year unimportant
for Earth remains the same place in relation to the Sun
every September the 23rd

I didn’t know I loved death
until I considered the autumn trees
leaves hanged at the ends of branches
gasping for breath
faces flushed with panicked color
growing crimson gold and brown
they pray for a quick release
from the biting grasp of branches
and find quiet comfort in their ancestral grounds

I didn’t know I loved the serenade of silence
for even in solitude this world continues to sing
even in the vacuum of space
absent of any sound or noise
the emptiness echoes with screams from the stars
their laments chance upon our blue-green
original home
where maybe we mention we feel warm

before long it will be March the 23rd and death
will be reversed
the Earth will stare at the other side of the Sun
the trees and leaves reborn
if Fall be only temporary
to be undone by the hand of Spring
for what reason do we mourn?
new buds bloom
in empty spaces between branches
a child is given the name of his grandfather
Life prevails

About The Author

Regis Louis is currently studying English at Kent State University. When he is not laboring over his poems, you can find him working at the Wick Poetry Center. He believes that it is his duty as a poet to use his writing as not only creative relief for himself but also as an opportunity to share his understanding of human life with others. He thanks you for reading his words.

Contents

For Empty Spaces

About The Author