I see the faces of my friends

and they see mine.

At least, it looks like me,

but when they look into my eyes

they can't see the tears streaming

underneath the mask of my busy chewing,

my laughter, my seeming boredom.

They can't feel the lump in my throat,

the weight on my bones pulling me down.

But I can't tell them. I don't know how.


I see the face of my friend,

and she sees mine.

She sees my eyes water,

I see her lips twitch.

I understand now just a bit more.

I am understood.


I wonder if it looks like them,

but if there are really tears behind those eyes,

if there is a lump in their throats.

I wonder if their hearts are all crying out with one voice

wanting to understand,

wanting to be understood.

But we can't say so. None of us know how.

This poem is about: 
My community


Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression. Always let poetry fill your life. Keep expressing your heart.  

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