THE SOLITUDE OF DESPAIR
To the all-seeing half hidden moon
lurking in the dark behind the clouds:
Why be wary?
It was a moment with no past, no future,
a moment, not of passion, but compassion,
resurrected in a poem.
I held him with my heart and arms
touching him with understanding,
letting his tears wash down my face
already wet with his pain.
You witnessed in silence, with wisdom, without judgment
the swell of sweet agony surging upward–
pounding, pushing, rushing from door to door–
my throat, my eyes, my lips.
The pull was by the finger tips
and toward the window
To view the sky’s teardrops….
to accompany ours.
A starved heart did swell
when the song was ended—full,
so full of sweeping space
when the unresolved chord found its progression;
a perfect cadence of completion.
Then back to quiescence and the solitude of despair.