Something For Emily

I understand the isolation,

   what others call being alone

 

I understand the silent moments,

   the inner freedom to roam

 

I understand the derision,

   and the label of being called strange

 

With each new dawn I most understand

  —the joy in not being the same

 

(Train To Center City Philadelphia: January, 2015)

The Line

Conduit of the human spirit

I forced hope into the cord

Draining the tears of

The lost and abandoned

Plugging into outlets

Of forgotten promise

Forcing their light

Onto the dark barren screen

Charging into what

I had charged over before

  —crossing the line

  —crossing the line

 

(Villanova Post Office: January, 2015)