Not one word of this poem
flies on dove-gray wings
not one word gives
sustenance to the hungry
it does not offer a soft place
on which to rest
nor does it provide a way
to get from here
to there
but it does it does
it does wave flag-like
above green fields
it does sing bittersweet
a timeless lullaby
it does speak
in a voice that will be
heard
this poem that insists on being
written
and someday who knows
someone might understand
what it is trying to say.
© 2020, by Hannah Six
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