empathy

the seen and not seen
the touch without touch
the presence alone
unembodied but within


joy to brave sadness, assuaged
it's otherness, embraced
it's sameness, felt
it's love known

confession

i don't know how to write poetry. never took a class, have no credential, hold no authority. that may be obvious to people. poetry is not easy to read, that's obvious to me.

but i have this experience that no one can tell me a thing about, that appears to be unique enough to interest me, and that i can say in these words and in these ways.

wake

i know you always
answer yes when i love
you until we're eye to eye
again asking for life's why.

yet we've lapsed into real
allowing imperfect sight
to move you out of you,
and miss the one who saw.

like the way i saw you
in eternal recognition
as if renewing thoughts
had multiplied your origin.

(i regret you didn't know
you in those moments
tumbled backward by motions
misrecalled as cannot now)

and send away a vision
that may bring you back
in you to craft my sigh
awake to where you've gone.