my own,
not lovely,
solitude. . .

the challenge is
to rise above me,
and descend,
if need be,
to the bone,

if that’s where
I’ll find the fortitude,

so I can

step forth,
reach out,
and do some things
I need
or want to do,

and then, I find
I no longer
feel alone,
though no one’s come,

and a kind of present
peace and love
for me
have somehow
nonetheless ensued.

This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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