WHEN I FALL
Why is it that the path
Has to mist before
We see ourselves,
Cracks and roots exposed
To an empty ditch
To reveal a broken stem;
Vulnerable, collapsing
Covered in isolation
And open to pain.
Maybe it is necessary for us
To suffer occasionally -
For compassion to remain;
Like a stunted tree, a trapped
Fly, before we can see
Through another’s eye.
My path has been mostly clear
Or as far as I can see
Alone, but never lonely.
Not intentionally
Do I fail to notice
A troubled mind,
If you fail to see me
When my mist approaches.
I won’t think you unkind.
