I don’t usually write poems, so when one comes to me, I have no idea what it might have to say to another person. This one speaks to my experience, especially in the sense of not being alone even when you struggle as if you were alone sometimes.
What Can I Hope to Tell You?
What can I hope to tell you
About a Tuesday morning dew?
Outside, the ground is quiet
The birds have all gone away
And I’m just standing by the window
The days of our innocence
Why do I long to see you
In a warm, remembered way?
Inside, the chest is tightening
New thoughts wrestle with old ones
Down on the floor, the poor one
Might I confess to the wind?
How can I quell the rumblings
Every hapless day, night, or morning?
All around, queries stretch me outward
While the chill air answers in dew light:
“Blessed are you a soul graced
Tender, unsure, not alone”