for S
I don’t want you to die.
I know that is selfish,
but it’s the truest thing.
I know we don’t speak of it.
I know I am supposed
to find acceptance,
to find metaphors about
rebirth and letting go—
the trees are always good that way—
but I don’t want to.
I hate that you are hurting.
I hate how far away you are.
You and I both know
that I would never write this
in your card. No, instead,
I send a metaphor about birds,
about resilience and
the gift of wings. Instead,
I tell you I love you.
It’s the other truest thing.
One might argue that by saying, I love you, you also said what you didn’t explicitly say. That said, there are powers received in hearing the explicit. In bringing the background to the fore, in bearing light to the shadows. There can be sorcery in doing what we aren’t supposed to.
Yes, and, Rosemerry I love you.
Aw, thank you, dear Eduardo. You are a wonderman. Thank you for bringing light.
Wow. Spot-on! Love this poem.
thanks, Drew …
…a poem that says for me what I feel… thanks, Rosemerry
Thank you, friend … it was a hard one to write … and not to write.