So Reachable

It’s never silent anymore,

It’s never really calm;

It never stops

So she can hear her breathing


And there is pain in coming new,

In being born, or freedom —

Like growing bones,

Or maybe even teething —


These private things that just we know,

She knows them in good measure;

But cannot find

The truth thought-ways are teaching —


It’s never silent anymore,

And all is jumbled and confused;

So reachable,

And yet there’s no one


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