A Hunger

on

I know I am not enough
for the world I am small.
I feel extended kindnesses
so I feel not small at all.

What is this elevation I see,
reflected in the mirror I am
mystified by candid words,
given a safe place to land?

It is not what I want to see,
here in bed a cripple to be.
I want to read her lips true
what she sees inside of me.

But I find I am so far off I’m
a mystified creation so blind.
What is this worth I build in
these threads of Father Time?

Am I enough I ask myself
over and over why am I weak?
It is the hunger for a voice I
hunger to hear it again speak.

Oldie but goodie. When I say “oldie” I mean three years ago.

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