Unspoken Word
August 13, 2022
The Open Window

Is an open window missing anything --
a pane of glass, a curtain,
a sheet of plywood in case a hurricane looms?
Breezes enter through this window
or should I say where a window was,
there being nothing now but empty space,
no way to separate
the inside from the outside,
where I'm standing now
from where I will be later,
you from me.

Who I am is this empty space,
my home, my lens,
the portal to everything and nothing
the formless one
before a single need arises,
or regret.

Keep this window open wide, my friend,
even in a storm.
While the floor may get soaked
and it will seem as if, sometimes, you are all alone
the tears you shed
will dry everything,
the silence now filled
with the holy thunder of yourself.

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at August 13, 2022 12:30 PM

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“I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry.”
— John Cage

Welcome to my new blog — brief ruminations on what it is that moves me (and maybe YOU, too). If any of my poems inspire you, please forward them to friends. Good muse travels fast. Or could, with your help.

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