circling the drain might sound pejorative, but don’t we sometimes spin for delight?

born into a world of violence,
both overt and peripheral
i have lived my life in fear.

fear has made me angry
and fear has made me sorrow’d.
fear has made me mean
and mean has piled upon me
quilted comfort of further grief.

i am hopeful, as i practice
hopelessness, to learn
the shape of friendship.
not so that i might banish
fear, no,
but so that i might
help it feel
less afraid.

i am sorry for your sorrow.
i feel pained for your pain.
a wind-broken tree need not ask
forgiveness for its break.
i cannot name these trees,
so ask you,

some people,
when they drive by,
smile easily.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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