I keep writing the same letter over and over again.
Hoping sometime I might get it right.
The same words.
different said.

I tear it up each time.

Words cannot contain
the depth of gratitude that I feel.
and I’m not sure what is really at work here.

it’s all so strange.

I keep trying to articulate a word I do not know how to pronounce.
It comes out garbled and mushed.
It remains just beyond the tip of my tongue and yet stuck behind my teeth.

Perhaps I already wrote what I needed to say.

I hope you see it, and it works through the carapace.
I hope it can surprise even you who has already seen everything.
Know you were a part of it.
it is a small thing.
a simple gift.
I give it freely.

I hope you laugh at it, at me, my silliness,my wild eyed innocence .
I hope you nod your head in the knowing.
I hope you feel what could not be said.
I tried to make a container for that,
but it may leak a bit.

poetry is what is not written.

and I still can’t explain what I am trying to say.

but maybe you’ll get it anyway.