Wednesday, August 29, 2012

For M

There’s a hole in the floor I can’t not see;
   I have to inch around it when I walk.
There’s a voice that will never answer me;
   I feel its silence every time I talk.
Sometimes I just pretend the hole’s a lie.
   Sometimes I stand beside the edge and stare
Down at the emptiness, and think: “If I
   Could see the bottom, would I see you there?”
But what I keep forgetting is, this hole
   Is not the awful trap-door you fell through--
It’s you.  It’s what you are now.  And my soul
   Knows that there’s only one thing I can do:
      Pick the deep hole of you up off the floor
      And hold you till you’re part of me once more.

Copyright 2012 Matthew J Wells

1 comment:

Dave Doobinin said...

Missing her today . Thank you for the beautiful and touching poem