Sorrow Gondola

I stepped ashore one May night

into a chilly moonlight

where grass and flowers were gray

but their scent green.

I drifted up a slope

in the colorblind dark

while white stones

signaled back to the moon.

A time span

several minutes long

fifty-eight years wide.

And behind me

beyond the lead-shimmering waters

was the other coast

and those in command.

People with a future

instead of faces.