Faces down the table:
eyes glancing, briefly curious.
Faces down the table:
both here and not here.
Faces down the table,
signaling discreetly:
all such mysteries to me.
…
Their memories are vague concepts to me.
Myself, who never knew their fields:
I can only catch glimpses from a distance,
aided by stories told across chasms of time
and left written in the sand when the empathy tides recede
on memory shores.
…
When I met you yesterday, T.
I sat with you for some time
Just listening
From the very beginning
You were precious
Eyes boring into mine
You were so animated, so excited
The more you talked
Realizing someone was listening
Really listening to you
…
I know you’re tired of the shifting
Between shimmering and rotting…
Warm sun and cool breeze:
happy-tears polish four eyes,
stars elusive found
(I’m so happy that you’re finding your stars, M.)
They must remember the loving-kindness, applied with fearless compassion.
Sometimes as I walk under balmy, cloudy night skies
I see a little orange glow wink into existence…
There are times we are alone, even when people like to say we’re not. Some things we have to do ourselves, so we kind of are alone. We can still connect with others along the way, but that doesn’t mean they are fighting with us.
Brief stream-of-consciousness response to the writing of a friend.
One day they won’t be here
One day they won’t stay anymore