Island Time (Maintaining the thread of access…and escape)
Time for me on the island,
Seems to stand perfectly still.
In reality, undetected, it rages,
At warp speed with a savage will.
The clocks do not heed their master,
The sun, a blind eye to the dial…
The scenery appears unchanging,
Yet it only lasts a short while.
Seduced by the lure of serenity,
We moved here, surrendered our fate.
Infinity here is one hour,
One by one we queue at the gate.
Some are buried on the hillside,
Others ashes float in the cove…
A few were mailed out of town,
I jumped into my truck and drove.
I’ve spent my entire lifetime,
Out witting, and running from time.
Only to discover when free again,
Nothings ever owned,
Or mine.
This is a really interesting poem. It seems to say what it means on the surface, but I sense so much beneath its surface, and I want to go down there and see what's there. How could it say everything and yet not say everything? And I'm not just talking about the fact that it doesn't use the word death.
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