The Dust Of Thought

The Dust Of Thought short poem

Like you once said
Now we, no longer whole
Nor known by name
Familiar once forgotten now
Our thoughts our words
An insubstantial haze
Of weightless dust
The mass and means
Of what we were
The remnants of our being
Drifting down to lie in gray
Accumulations on the surface
Of the things we knew – mementos
Books, the photographs
Together with the fine debris
Of conscious matter
Particulates suspended
In the air we breathed
Captured in a beam
Of sunlight slanting through
The blinds until the sun
Fades into moonlight
And howling shadows
Wailing in the street
Come feeling for our souls
With leafy fingers
Calling us into that oddly
Ordered chaos
That knows no gravity

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Bill Peeler

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My wife, Noy and I are Protestant missionaries in Cambodia. We met in a border refugee camp in Thailand back in 1979 while I was a refugee relief worker. She was a refugee. I lived and worked in Mairut Refugee Camp for three years. We have three grown kids. I was drafted into the Army in 1969, served in Vietnam from 1970 to 1971 and honorably discharged at the end of my military obligation. Writing prose and poetry is how I document the life I'm living and how I map out the mental landscape inside my head.
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