(I go to see HR today…I am frightened stiff from the unknown. And it is 3 AM, the worst time of all times in every day of times. I wrote this in the attempt to loosen the grip of anxiety that tears inside…alas, it knows the teeth tracks of years and finds them effortlessly. To be honest, I think this poem sucks…it is too much a mirror of me, bound and terrified in this moment. But to be more honest, I think the act of sharing this poor bound baby poem is a stance of courage in the face of fear and my challenge hurled back, that I will never ever drink that hemlock escape.)
When I was sparkly fire and glow, and scintillating with insight
I heard from you.
I wanted to hear from you.
When I was prescient and perfect, precise and plenary
I heard from you.
I wanted to hear from you.
When I was funny and tickling and a madly capering jester
I heard from you.
I wanted to hear from you.
When I was torn and teary inside, and still like lakes at midnite
I didn’t hear from you,
I wanted to hear from you.
When I was thrumming stiff and stark, helpless in fear’s talons
I didn’t hear from you,
I wanted to hear from you.
When I was mute from sorrow and deaf from grief
I didn’t hear from you,
I wanted to hear from you.
I face unknown guillotines,
strange purveyor of power
whose lifted finger could be life
or the executioner’s twitch.
Does it mean life, or
death to my dreams and me?
Your words uncork my heart
unlocks my jaw
undeafs my ear
pour wine and set table
they calm, gentle me
I wanted to hear from you
I wanted to hear from you
Charissa's Grace Notes 
Not sure if the You is Me??
Tell me, please.
Aww…Sis, I knew you would read it there, your heart…your heart…
your valiant heart.
In truth, it was to Lady Grace, Who was maddeningly silent as She had already spoken, while I mewled and called and She the Rock there casting Her Shadow of direction and call to faith.
to write this for you would be something more along this…i love to hear from you…building from there.
I very nearly added a note of direction, but I hesitate to do that, often, for I have a conviction about poetry that it should be something which is easy enough to taste delicious, and hard enough to make you work to get to it…
…giggle, like eating crab legs!
❤ to you, for you, Friend