and I phone;
unsurprised that it's me
"bad dream," I say
you immediately settle in for the tale...
and you distract me
with the smiling in your voice
your laughter filling my heart-
rich with caring
and at the end of our call
I can't seem to remember what it was that scared me so-
you've chased my demons away, again
just by being there.
And I thought: this is how poetry is born. It comes from invisible heights, it is secret and dark in its origins, solitary and fragrant, and like the river it will assimilate whatever falls in its current; it will seek a route between the mountains, and its crystalline song will ripple through the meadows."- Pablo Neruda