Keeper of the Second Watch

If I had been first, not last

And all that lay before

The past held the same

Rosy optimism of hope


And memories were unaccumulated —

Like journal pages white,

No pain or diminished expectations

In sight.

But all these moments instead

Litter the hills like haunted houses

Rising ebenezer’s to roads

Not traveled.

If I had been first, not last,

There’d be no saboteurs of foreboding joy,

Nor renegade memories

Throwing up pain like a shield

Blocking the light.

But I am not first, I am now.

And what silver lining can I

Sing for the second watch?

The second act unfolds

What redemption lies in store?