She always writes from the observance of her inner being.
I understand now,
why hearts shatter in the middle of the night,
in the shade of darkness
where there is no hope
of spectators
coming to intrude on the truth
of a telling sadness.
I understand why
it’s impossible to talk
with that lump in the throat,
wading in a sea of individuals
who also feel unseen.
I can hear it now,
the cry for help we all wish was attended to
before it was too late.
And I can see us silencing it
as we vibrate with our implied,
‘Why can’t you be stronger?‘s
And our dismissive,
‘It will get better.’s
And the innocence of our oh so sickeningly convenient
yet so very genuine ignorance.
And our vast, deafening ocean of good intentions
that scream so loud,
they overtake any action that could have been taken.
I understand now,
in a myriad ways travelled by…
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Caedar Writing & Artwork 