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 A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, and got in your eye. |
 In your house, I long to be Room by room, patiently I'll wait for you there, like a stone I'll wait for you there, alone Broken People (I Haven't Met) I donāt know your fallen angels. I donāt know those who mourn. I wish that I could commiserate without feeling forlorn. Broken people have wings. Broken people can fly. But, we drown in our sorrow. We are afraid to even try. Weāre focused too much on pity. We focus too much on the dead. Why canāt people lend sympathy, leaving emotional homeless unfed? I envision your shadows. I have lingered in your shade. I donāt know why I am here and why I am buried with your spade. Itās through charity we find folks who struggle just like us, who are the same kind, who need redemption and trust. We can be here for the living before they suffocate underground. People can love people with differences all around. Lay down your weapons, with their stained bayonets. Extend a tender hand because I havenāt met you yet. 10.24.23 28 lines We are all stones, either above or below. Some shine brilliantly for show, while the rest also know of our worth. But itās really not about that. Is it? Do we want to be on the surface? How much pressure can a diamond take? Iāll be in my bedrock until the earthquake. 4.23.24 formatting and one adjective added |
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Great poem, Brian.
Dreams feel good though. Thanks for posting this one, Brian 
