Dilettalia (+1)

You dip your toe into poetry’s waters,

but never seem to get wet

 

Pretense showing, your measure unknowing,

the surface as good as it gets

 

Into the depths where fear leaves a shadow,

you stare with eyes conjoined

 

The moment upon you, time has been stopped,

to dive—your soul purloined

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2020)

 

 

Unto Thee

 

One last day to suffer,
as silence endures

One new day engendered,
to motion toward

A musical seamstress,
to stitch me back whole

A lyrical consort,
inscribed to behold

Each word as my seed,
 laying fertile the plain

Each phrase lost and orphaned,
my spirit reclaims

That breath once bespoken,
new hope to set free

That voice reawakened
—whose soul unto thee

(The Book Of Prayers: April, 2020)