Two Poems by Carl Scharwath

by Carl Scharwath

Plastic Pilgrim

An unseen wind, restless and indifferent,

propels the plastic bag, modern tumbleweed,

along a desolate city street

until it snags and rests—

against the flank of a church,

as if seeking absolution.

The Witness of History

Standing where waves once whispered,

as Atlantis buckled beneath its own splendor—

spires flashing like teeth in the last light

before the sea closed its jaws over them.

I watched the water fold across its temples,

heard the final cries swallowed by the deep,

and felt the silence that followed—

A muteness so vast it echoed.

Walking the streets of Babylon,

air heavy with incense and vaulting ambition,

where the Hanging Gardens stretched toward a heaven

that never bent to meet them.

I saw the gold, the pride, the tower scrape the sky,

until sands came—grain by patient grain

To bury what the hands of men have built.

The wind carried their songs away,

And remained,

A shadow in the dust.