Not enough calm to realize the moment
before me,
I focus on a child’s pointing finger -
we are somehow the same.
Not enough time to get the words out
correctly,
I stare down at the plate before me,
a child’s voice; she’s calling.
Not enough space to wrap my arms
around you,
I flounder, in this moment,
alone, see?
Not enough understanding of what it is
that defines me,
I let go of the futility,
knowing no certainty.
1 comment:
Hi John,
Your words are beautiful.
Katya
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