why the power of connection is our compass that guides us home

i. i tell the mom
her child has been internalizing feelings,
blaming herself for accidents
before she even sees if i will
be upset.

the mom blinks, and a tear
smudges her mascara.

the empathy a mom
has for her child is so

ii. i am seeing my client for the first time
in three weeks,
and she hugs me,
and doesn’t
let go.

her arms hold a lifetime
of “i missed you’s”
and her head sinks
into my shoulder, and i wonder how many people
dream of reunions, of emotions
like this.

iii. there are few things more beautiful than this,

(than the way my boyfriend and i are
entwined in each other when we go to bed,
our legs like shoelaces spiraled around each other,
our hands finding homes in each other’s palms,
his hand, around my waist)

but i don’t know of any.

iv. he is more than just a part
of this poem,
he is the title,
the reason,

my compass,
my home.


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