Nothing’s Missing

Weird when the pantry cupboard suggests
there’s more to it than just irksome oddities
of absence – nothing’s missing here it says,
emanating an aura of ethereal empathy,
an undeniable omnipresence of spirituality
– from whom or what is unclear, hovering
on wing’s vague memories, half-formed in
ideas too specious to hang a hat upon

Nothing’s missing claim a pall of spectres
who can’t depart this scene of their origin
– just an identity, emotional power earns
such respect as feelings of raw strength –
has she gone away? Never left, they say,
and we know for we’re that memory
© 13 November 2012, I. D. Carswell