top of page

Easter Island

I’ve spoken with stone monuments

their shoulders gray in shrugging mist


Run my fingertips along grooves

hairlines in pyramid slopes


I’ve pursued points of light

in fleeing nebulae


Sailed oceans on a hewed out log

listening to dolphins clicking


I’ve cleared snow drifts in my mind

seeking solace from those questions


Here on this lonely island

perhaps I’ll find a buried answer


Hidden under millennia of rubble


Where shamans and wild-eyed prophets

once stood bare-headed watching lightning


Furious, I burrow deep into mounds

groping for a shard of understanding


Some clue, some artifact, a whisper

in all this immense

and empty vastness


to tell me I am not alone

To Go Back To
Hit your browser's

© Johnmichael Simon



bottom of page