A sharp cleaver 
I do wield 
ready to hack
away freeing myself 
from all suffering 
bleed I will 
miss I must 
but disease grows 
when it’s ignored 
live I shall 
sometimes without limb
oftentimes because love 

I wonder if
I’ll ever again 
what you ask 
so many things 
oh so many 
smell the seashore 
touch wet grass 
taste sweet strawberries 
whistle a tune 
and even this 
I finally admit 
but you can 
you reassure me 
not like this 
the first time 

Those four words 
just those four 
keep ringing like 
some unanswered call 
like some stone 
tossed into a 
pond its ring
starting slightly and 
then growing until 
it finally slaps 
at my feet 
those four words 
once spoken angrily 
and in hurt
never stop ringing 

As I’ve aged 
quiet as commodity 
has become precious 
not just in
my personal space 
in other things 
too like elegance 
and confidence and 
character and charm 
even in creativity 
when and where 
whispers become roars
oh to go 
about barely noticed
and yet knowing 
that you are 

Once it was 
and the once 
stretched so far 
across the calendar 
and the clock 
and everything else 
before it too
but then once 
became the when
and the all
too frequently familiar
upon a time