A Poem: Seen

I want to tell you that you’re seen,
sitting there in the dark.
The blue’s a veil, the clouds will shift,
in a giving way to the moon.

The light, though now just a forgotten thing,
will all of a sudden appear.
The clouds playing skittles with the wind will push through,
and the moon arrive like the sun.

But, in the meantime you’re still seen.
Loneliness is a shadow, cast by grief’s lengthy visit,
and tears, a shield
to soften the remembering.

These things will shift, like clouds at midnight,
chasing and unveiling the moon.
Yes, joy is a thing too fickle some.
A frail presence too soon.

But God will come on little cat feet,
as mist receding at noon.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
December 2019

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