could You come to me?
could You meet me in an embrace,
and tell me that it's alright?
could You tell me that You love me,
that I don't have to try to get your attention?
could You tell me that You're listening?
could You tell me that i'm enough?
i need to hear Your voice above all the noise.

I lost my inner poet
apparently she was last seen
just staring idly into space

She was sitting with her notebook,
gently pondering
in a quiet, tucked away place

I could only see the back of her
she wouldn't turn around
I so wanted to see her face

She was always so quiet
and very often reflective
working at her own steady pace

Not only am I left without poetry
I am also lost for words
she may have taken them all
along with my grace

The search will continue
maybe until the end of my days
as I fear she's left no trace

I saw a photograph today.
Old, Berlin, black and white-
black charred stumps-
blackened limbs.

When they bombed the Tiergarten,
did the trees hear them fall
in the forest?

r ~ 8/6/14