
Even not being there
doesn’t mean that they’re not
there. I mean, I’ve always
thought, that is, I’ve always hoped,
they are
a hair’s breadth out of reach,
one glance
from my trembling, angry, forgiving
and unforgivingly lonely,
missing-them heart.
Even not being there
doesn’t mean that they’re not
there. I mean, I’ve always
thought, that is, I’ve always hoped,
they are
a hair’s breadth out of reach,
one glance
from my trembling, angry, forgiving
and unforgivingly lonely,
missing-them heart.
Here
and then again
not here.
A choice? Maybe. A defense?
More likely. The one path still open
for self-determination
when if
is no longer possible,
when where
is no longer possible,
when why
has worn a hole
through a floor scattered with shell casings.
How
still can sometimes
be grasped in our hands.
Fly, dear friend,
with God, with hope,
with all our love.
✿ Instilling hope again and again ✿ It's all about falling and getting back up here!
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