Heading Home
For Leonard Cohen (1934-2016)
We didn’t hear the news of your departure
until three days after you slipped
between the jail bars of this world
and snuck through a crack in the sky.
Now I hear that you predicted
that Trump would win the Presidency,
one last dark flash of prophecy
before the flame was blown out,
one final chirp of warning in the mine
which your family dismissed as nonsense
from your cannabis clouded mind.
You got your hard earned wings a day
before the results came in, as if you caught
the scent of swift change in your curved beak,
felt the first sharp chill of coming winter
in your weary bones and got out ahead of it,
but not before you left us with one more
song of love and hate, one more roadmap
to lead us through the darkness
and guide us to the gate.
For those of us still left behind,
life goes on here in this cage.
The winter came as it always does
and overstayed its cold welcome
and now spring is tuning up again
to the bright call of new songbirds,
but still, I hear your song rising high
above the rest and sometimes when
the night is slow and fallen beneath
its veil of snow, I swear I see your light
flash across the sky, another weary
traveler heading home.
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