If midnight passes

before my plea

sends destined waves of energy

I may be drifting where

soundness of mind stays

safe within the spirit of love

yet I have already forgotten

too many shapes from this evening’s sky

…now the smallest hopes are not nearly enough


As this hand shakes

I will the warrior within

but without healing means

to a never promised end

She’s questioning strength—anchoring in

to the space where

the laughter cannot do her in—

breaking her clarity

with complicated sincerities…


Will the longest nights

ever steal enough of the day?

How far does pain reach

before perishing with its last parallel?


Will I then fall into the arms of promise?








I am enough to outlast

All that struggle insists I resist…

Carrie Gilbert 2017


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