I hide behind the simple things
(not the easy) so you’ll find me;
If you don’t find me, you’ll find the things.
You’ll touch what my hand has touched,
our hand prints will merge…
the august moon glitters
in the kitchen
like a tin-plated pot
(it does this because of what I’m saying to you)
it lights up the empty house
and the house’s kneeling silence,
always the silence remains kneeling.
Every Word is a doorway
to a meeting–one oft cancelled–
and that’s when a word is true:
when it insists on the meeting.
I really like it! The feel is nice, as you said and I like how open and abstract it is. I used to write poetry a lot like this-it had a deep meaning to me but I doubt it even much made sense to others who read it. It was poetry for myself, a kind of cryptic diary and this poem reminded me of that.
Thanks Ace. You made me smile! I just look back now and marvel really…soo sad as I remember those years of lonely isolation in the midst of life all round me.
And I am so different now, an oak ffrom an acorn or butterfly from caterpillar… Soo grateful, ever so grateful.