3/31/93-Empty

                                                3/31/93
 
                        Empty
 
 A chill crosses my arms
 I can feel every hair burning
 The weight eases from my shoulders
 And I see the space again
 
 Solitude brings the slow smile of strength
 I find comfort in the changing face of a growing friend
 The accidental brush of a floral print
 The breath of a stranger
 The call of one I'll see sometime
 Sometime when we stop in the same place
 At the same time
 Without stable anchorage we pass and miss
 Ships grudgingly lack what we have...
 
 Entering the unknown lonely, not alone
 I draw a breath and say a prayer
 Willingness not in great supply
 I will return perhaps the same
 Or with a open hand.