February 28, 2015
HERE IS A POEM YOU CAN HIDE IN
When you come to wherever
failed hopes go, turn
where my child’s voice is heard
in the night, still damp from dreams.
Talk of sweet surrender against the
February snow, and then turn inward,
where silver trims the bitter limbs.
I’m not afraid to mention
precious aspirations, and
all we know went wrong,
I’m here with you,
under the same sun and same moon,
right here, the source of prayer,
right here in my hand.
(credit: Casa Menendez)