Find Yourself Again

In its own way this wall of insecurity explains
most everything; like it describes which place
you occupy and where we might yet interface.
I am here where it’s secure, where meaning’s
clear. You are there, in ambiguity, where war
on meaning is too real to bear. I vaguely know
what has been said but have to ask for clarity.

When I send my message sticks I’ve no idea
if you will ever read and be amazed or how
you will interpret what I say. I only know that
when we meet you have to hint at it before
I feel we may connect. You cannot understand
the half of it, I know – you explain the way that
only people who pretend they do will say.

Should you live with me you’d know of what I
mean. You’d hear the dawn in chorusing, feel
rhythms in the night and see the pictures live
in tiles where shapes unite. You’d commune
with dew-damp grass in bare and happy feet
that stroll quite unselfconsciously in misty rain.
Here with me you’d find yourself again.
© 27 February 2008, I. D. Carswell