I knew it before it took place. I warned of it.
I was met with shock, like human nature
Isn’t susceptible to that.
I felt wistful at first. I was sad. I was angry.
I realized a need—we seem to share it,
I try to erase it. It makes for weakness,
It leaves one undone.
The wheel inside a wheel, those waves &
Arts, purpose of one’s dreams. To need
The falsity one gives, to know—it isn’t
Reliable, to walk in, hoping one will
See beauty. As
Vulnerable creatures, mourning souls, in
Somberness seeing the best of pains—
Woes made indomitable, immutable,
Dependable, a knowingness, an
Appreciation for truth. I
Stood at billows, fed birds, sat at parks;
I walked while reading, paused to say,
Good morning, kicked at sticks,
Prayed under-breath, to imagine
How souls manage.
Except for prose/poetry, or seated in
Some thread of therapy, I never let on.
It’s discovered, keen souls, deeper
insights.
To stumble upon a word, to gaze into a
Grin, to scrape a smile, to realize a
Kindred soul.
A musical concerto, a cello played by a
Survivor; dreaded a scene, forbidden a
Knitting, lost in sullen laughs.
I need timbre.
