This is another of the poems for "Missing Words". It was written during the terrible time my best friend was in the hospital for cancer and we didn't know if she would live or die.
I call on you
but you don't hear me.
I want there to be a You
but I don't know.
If there was a You,
Would you cradle me in Your arms,
smelling of tea roses and sandalwood,
sing me a lullaby, and
tell me it was all right?
Or would You
point out that everything has a lesson to teach me,
a signpost for me to follow,
or a memory I need to keep
like a souvenir or a
sepia-tone photo or a
yellowed page in a scrapbook?
Would you tell me
I need to stand on my own
and make my own mistakes
and then keep going?
Falling off the bike.
Denting the door.
Burning the rice.
Religion is cold
and the world is scary
and there's no way to
peek at the ending.
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