This is for the one that met me last evening : she may never read this :
I met a beautiful little girl with so much to give, but was afraid of human beings. What kind of fear is that ? When we are afraid of human beings?
All I wanted for her was to have at least a good friend. How I wish that for you little one – that you would find a friend. I’ll call her Myra.
She stared at me and returned to her window that looked into a high blank wall. That wall is her friend. The only one she trusts.
Yes, we can write all our words and do all our good works, but alone-ness is a thing we fight most, and am sitting here speechless today, trying to quiet my chaos, with reading other people’s poetry. Other languages. Anything to hide my own…
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