Differently Alike

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I watch the sun set.
Every time I marvel at the loveliness,
a beauty that is never like any one before it.
There is a serenity in the evening.
The colors are peaceful.
The air is soft.
The sounds are gentle as the world unwinds
for the night.
The night is long and restful.
I listen and hear for a short time
before I sleep
peacefully.
And blissfully unaware of all except my dreams.
When the sun rises again,
it is once more a delight of quiet colors
that strengthen into the bright sunlight.
The sounds rise from near nothing
to the busy babble of the daytime.
I’m challenged with the diametric analogy,
the ever-changing sameness
of each turn of the earth,
happy to know I can expect
to be surprised
again.



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Whoever You Are

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I miss you.
I’m not even sure who you are,
But I miss you.
I’m very alone and I’m waiting
for you,
whoever you are,
to join me.
I want to feel you touch me,
a brushing of elbows as we both reach for a book to read,
or the warmth of a momentary caress
of your fingers on the back of my hand,
love unspoken.
I find myself wondering if you miss me.
Is there an empty place in your life,
a place that I fit?
Or are you happily oblivious of my absence?
Or am I simply insane?




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Living Outside the Bubble

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There is a bubble
that I can’t get through,
no matter what I try
I can’t get in.
It moves and I can touch people inside
yet the skin of the bubble is between their hands and mine.
Someone laughs at my joke.
Another smiles and invites me in to talk.
I go.
I sit.
I talk.
I laugh.
I eat.
I drink.
I dance.
It feels alright.
And then as I leave the bubble pushes against me
as if hurrying me away,
reminding me of it’s presence,
strengthening into a thicker wall
with each step I take.
As sure as I breathe
I was never really inside the bubble
with everyone else.
I’m not part of the people inside the bubble.
I don’t belong.
I ask, come see my world,
here outside the bubble
and there are polite mutterings
that say no.
No thank you, but
no.
And when I’m out of sight
when the bubble has pushed me far enough
I no longer exist
inside the bubble.
No matter how I push
the bubble doesn’t break.
It’s so thin I feel the ridges of their fingerprints
when we touch.
I feel the hugs and the lips brushed on my cheek
but the film holds me back
again and again.
I can’t remove it
or break it
or open it.
The bubble wins.






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