My Letters to the World

"This is my letter to the world

that never wrote to Me -"

Emily Dickinson

Inside my open penny box

among my unread post

unopened and ignored and stale

a letter from some source.

By then I wondered what it was

that lied before my eye

a letter amongst many things

a random question why.

To wonder long about its age

a tarnished ochre wood

upon the words of crisp white script

what letter could this be?

I grip the letter with my thumb

and fore finger like this

to lift each word up to my brow

and gaze at mystery.

To reach inside the evelope

to find my froth with words

mostly, likely written by a friend

or a lover from my youth.

The joy of finding letter lost

to read at home alone

our simple words written with love

a gift from you to me.

To write a letter to the world

unlike the words from her

and mountains stand within our pens

to shadow every sigh.

A serious commitment made

as if my hands can see

each word from former lives and times

a memory that is kind.

I am taking a break from my routine

to write this letter to you. This is hard

to write but I need to tell you

I respect everyday of our ten years.

Ten years that molded the statue

I am now. I remember events

so clear, like witnessing the birth

of our children, our dedication

to our children with every step.

Even though I am not brave

enough to send this letter

you should know that you

have become a part of my wiring,

experiences that drive my choices.

I still feel the warmth we created,

the joy of times, through our struggles.

We created, at the time, miracles.

Miracles that informed me of hope.

I have hope that you will succeed

and find a place to call your own.

You were the better part of my life,

no regrets. I would repeat

every moment. Especially the ones

when we were in love with each other

when I waited

for another chance to look into your eyes.