Among a Growing Sunset

What can I say, poetry is the best form of therapy ever inspired by God through nature and given to man. Read on then... Amen



I miss you here tonight
Among a growing sunset
Where stars and silence overcome
and crackling camp fires consume
cares of daily life.

I miss our conversation
About every manner of thing
To hear your voice
Take in your smile
Knowing in my heart they will suffice
no matter crisis festering within
our minds and souls.

You have your life
And I mine
We are weaker for it
than a time once no more.

But in spite of all
God still calls me
into peaceful recesses of prayer
Where there is hope and joy;
A place promised for forevermore
Among a growing sunset.

- D. Wittler 2014

The Last Paragraph

This is the last paragraph from a novel/short story I started a few years ago. I had spent a whole summer reading William Faulkner novels and the words just flew out of my mind onto the page. I had dreamed about the opening scene, but after a few weeks the words stopped coming and life, like it always does, got in the way. Good night.

Brushing away the cobwebs meant reliving memories long since dormant, as James meandered his way through ghostly coverlets. There, in the back corner sat a familiar form; father's old roll top desk. James paused a moment before tearing off the dust laden linen like scar tissue from an old war wound. This, for James, was the beginning of a long journey back to reality and the path he had long put aside. “Where would the weeds now laying before me lead?” he thought to himself, as the dark stained grain of the roll top faced him squarely now like his father had done so many years earlier.

In Stone

In stone
To be remembered
On green lawns
To roam care free
Prayers carried
Upon four winds
Long walks
To sooth old wounds
Tears for lost love
Cries to God above
And answers slow to come.