Edward Hemstreet is a surfacing writer from New Jersey, United States. In general, his writings center on depressions, the body, nature, and vignettes on mundane life. When not writing, he may be found drinking uncomfortable amounts of tea.

Within Passings

When Socrates drank hemlock,
I was in the chalice;
 		         I glided down his gullet
And stopped him where he sat
When Oscar Wilde passed
his comments on the walls,
I was the culture
that teemed atop his brain,
And so starkly stole
 	                       the wealth of his wit
To leave Britain bored
Then in April 1912,
when thousands swam their graves
I was the Atlantic,
 		       with frigid crests of Blue
And when you see your father
for the last time
 		   In his bed,
I will be the tumors
that conquered all his gut
And claimed his aging lungs
with such a cunning silence
No matter where you wander,
your winding path will halt;
I will be there
 		Tall and stoic,
To guide you to conclusion:
A failure, a wreckage
that leaves us hushly joined

[image: Chalice of Saint John the Evangelist| Hans Memling]