Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.

I woke up this morning
feeling gratitude
even in the warning
my legs gave in my first steps,
gratitude for one more day
for one more hour or minute
on Earth now in my brief stay
on this tortured beautiful planet.

When I See Your Eyes

When I see your eyes,
I want to be there,
where your window soul
stares back at me.
Touch me,
I will touch you back,
hands holding hands
captive in your arms,
captive in your heart,
and the years together
spread out before us,
stretching from our now,
until our forever.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021