a quiet redistribution of empathy
a quiet redistribution of empathy

poetry is merely

a quiet redistribution of our empathy.

a waterfall of emotion,

each handful cupped carefully and passed

to a woeful, waiting world.

once it was flourishing text and decorated idiosyncrasies,

long, winding metaphors and melodic maladies,

plays on words and thoughtful peculiarities,

softspoken remedies and heartbroken elegies.

then it became a bullet aimed at a heart:

short.

quick.

a gut punch.

it’s metamorphosis traced like a paperback spine,

it’s evolution tracked through the passage of time,

it’s changes of heart and changes of mind,

it’s anchors of peace and desperate lifelines.

from ancient tomes

to instagram poems,

we wrote as far as we could dare to conceive,

searching endlessly for a mental reprieve.

the world may have changed and so may its prose,

but the purpose of poetry stayed a flourishing rose.

to define is to limit,

and our emotion remains endless.

it was infinite then, it is infinite now,

and maybe it sounds different, but its reasoning is the same,

not for glory and never for fame,

merely to say, we are the same.

there is a world we will never understand

but we will face it hand in hand

as our ancestors did so many years before,

with those same honest words

and a welcome, open door.

seeking understanding of the impossible,

seeking solace in the unimaginable,

unwinding the wrapping of our grief

into a final,

calming sigh:

relief.
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['Unity', 'Change', 'Poetry', 'Free Verse', 'Poems On Medium']