poem: love begins with the promise of being understood

Matilda, 1996

How many nights have I waited for you

Alone or with a snoring oaf ?

What am I ?

A tender of the dead.

A first-time mourner,

begging to be believed.

 

The mountains listen

 howling, I won’t do it alone. I can’t -

it takes two to make and to mourn. 

in their silent knowing

No one told me it feels like starving, 

so much so 

clever as tree roots

how it expands and grows. 

so, back I go,

alone with a snoring oaf 

full of bruised hope though.

 

 

Go into the forest my child,

They are waiting for you

 

play with the panthers and the pelicans

pick the leaves and eat the berries

swim in the stream, climb my child

for you are free.

 

gerianums,  lily, lily, carnations and rose

*raises glass*

Who else invents to feel less alone?