Floating on Daydreams

Poetry

We are poetry waiting to be read out loud, to rip to shreds the shroud of silence; waiting to help someone feel less alone, less misunderstood.

We are waiting to make a difference, to save lives. 

We are waiting to have shaky fingers skim over us gently in a caress that feels like dew on skin. 

We are waiting to be cradled in secret corners in the middle of the night; waiting to be someone's support as they cry. 

Some of us are structured differently from others, but in our world, that's okay, because poetry that is different is also beautiful.

We are everywhere: In love, in hate, in spite, in laughter, in heart-to-heart conversations, in emptiness, in anger, and in whispers.

We are in the sky, in rivers, in mud, in stone, and in eyes that speak louder than freight trains on metal tracks.

We are in promises, in clasped hands, in bowed heads, and in entwined bodies. 

We are on gravestones, in lonely hearts, in spilled blood, and in grieving souls. 

We are in the air and in empty space. All of us matter. 

All of us have at least one person who cherishes us. Sometimes, we lose that person.

Sometimes we lose ourselves. Sometimes we don't.

And sometimes, we just fade away.