Poem by Tommy James Gomatos
Whispers
There are whispers.
They call like echoes in empty space,
So that we may find a semblance of shapes amongst the darkness.
Only here, on the precipice of passing, are we forced with the honest truth.
Like rivers, we ebb and coil and stretch far beyond the measure of our bodies.
There are lights there—
Countless lights—
An illumination of hope where nothingness once dwelled.
And it is here,
Amongst baby stars,
That we remember the lines in our hands,
Like the rivers of our souls,
That there may be peace.
Remember peace.
Remember light.
Even in the long shadows,
Remember light.
About the Author – Tommy James Gomatos
Tommy James Gomatos is an Author and Artist. Born and raised in the small city of Laval just north of Montreal in the province of Quebec, Canada. The son to immigrant Greek parents, he loves all aspects of his northern town. Writing out of instinct, he finds truth and beauty in even the most trying of times. Committing himself to creative endeavors he spends most of his days drawing, writing and painting. He’s fond of movies, books and finds excuses to visit the local coffee shop pretty much every morning. There is nothing he appreciates more than an autumn rain fall.
Keep Reading…
- Birthplace
It was the hayloft’s aerial devilry— stench of rot in the heat, barn boards strewn with excrement, swallow and bat, littered with too many winged corpses for a child to revive— that compelled her - Whispers
There are whispers. They call like echoes in empty space, So that we may find a semblance of shapes amongst the darkness. Only here, on the precipice of passing, are we forced with the honest truth. Like rivers, we ebb and coil and stretch far beyond the measure of our bodies. - Motherhood in the Plague Year
Sometime between the murder of George Floyd and the confirmation of Amy Coney Barrett, I started to think about killing myself.
Meanwhile, at Dreamers…
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It’s simple; a set of prompts, a loose structure, and time set aside to move through it at your own pace. You can follow it closely or not at all. There’s no expectation to produce anything finished.
Dreamers Writing Farm
Dreamers Writing Farm is the physical home of the Dreamers community, a quiet, creative space on the Bruce Peninsula in Ontario. Writers, artists, and travellers stay here throughout the year in simple, literary-themed cabins, tents, and studio suites.