Lemon flower

Is lonely an empty word?

Is being alone a day gone by without

A song?

Is it something you can miss, and let it pass you by,

Is lonely something you can overpass

If you run fast enough?

What if you can’t run at all?

***

What is lonely but a soft echo of your silent cry?

Is it in the lonely flowering bud?

Waiting to crackle and burst and

Be rebirthed,

A painful splitting in your body,

Where the moon’s tidal force can

Feel it at midnight,

And at dawn, you still need the rest,

You can’t stop,

The sun beating down on you

Is what keeps you reforming,

Inside,

Your

Body is swelling and squelching and churning and burning,

Outside, you are a beautiful piece of the landscape

A small part of Mother Earth,

Gently swaying in the breeze.

****

Lonely is an ache in your mouth

That cuts your tongue,

Lonely is angry

When all others are free,

You tell yourself it’s an illusion,

And free is not real,

Being locked up inside is real,

Because it’s the only way you’ve ever lived and felt and tasted and heard,

But lonely is sharing,

Little lemon flower,

Lonely is late night musings

During daylight hours,

Dreaming about something painful

Like freedom,

And being finally able to get up

Without listening to all the loud noises around you, telling you to grow faster

And be what you were supposed to be,

And instead,

Be quietly, unabashedly

You.