Dear Friend
Poetry Sunday: A poem to a friend inside.
Dear friend,
I know you can’t quite tell
what it feels like,
because what is inside
the head cannot quite
be projected as it is —
almost never.
And so we take refuge
in the words of poets
shelter beneath the
colors of painters
and borrow the eyes
of sculptors —
an attempt to see
what is inside us
as they might be.
I know friend,
it feels like a domino —
one fall and then entire
castle comes crumbling.
I know it feels
as thought one wrong move
will alter the course.
A move, any move
will of course alter the course.
But is the course one
with dark paths,
who can tell anyway.
I know friend
you are the butterfly
who might flap its wings now
and bring hurricanes —
this moment or many
thousand moments forward.
And so you hesitate
to let air lift your
gossamer wings.
But so what
if hurricanes come
or castles tumble.
If move you must,
then move
my friend.
