Despite what people might say
There are things we have in common.
I mean, if you think about it:
The view while living them of
Events through different lens,
The way rest comes from walking
Doggedly with pain, and
How there is magic in the ordinariness of
Time, which you marvel at, watching for the
Very moment that clicks over a minute.
Because of you I notice the
Movement of time
A delicate action I would
Otherwise have missed.
Our language does not always know us:
Sometimes we are a stiff wind
Through a night lantern
That dims and howls
Leaving a trail of smoke and ash
A vacant shell
Barren forever of seed,
Sometimes we are a surgeon’s hands
Righting a baby’s head
In the birth canal. We suck for air.
Words misunderstanding us
make clear water thick;
Miscarried feelings are clouds
We embraced but turned to rain.