Poetry
I go on social media and no one loves me as the child I was
In the past
Not so much.
Somehow it’s all a half opened hand
Glitch like fumbling
No thumb and a
clenched fist
A bunch of fingers
Carving reality
Into empathy.
The Alley blows gasoline smoke
And I choke
It slows the mist
Two almost kissing
And losing
how we keep missing each other
In the
causes
A lot of people
Plenty of fish
Swimming
You had a minnow
Once
Innocent and
A mirror
Without fears
A wild
nebula in your eye.
And cheated life
When you
Furrowed in
Death in the rough
And had almost just enough.
Don’t get me started on the past
When the present is already
Dismissive
A entire wardrobe
Malfunctioning
Things material on a shelf
Dusty and forgotten
Fabric of this
And that
Having and not wanting
Not showing up at
funerals
Being a pillar of society
Being a human being that
sees
In 3rd eye
And 4th eye
Sometimes 5th eye
A galaxy
And
A pool for thinking
A bit better
In healing
A better life for all
To see each other
Endlessly
Star between star
Hopes and dreams
And all In between
Visible for all to see
It’s just me- your friend
Saying hello
Birds sometimes soaring reflected
In the dirty pools we muddied
Without knowing the mess we made.
Francis A Willey
March 22 2023