This poem explores the complex and often contradictory feelings of a person grappling with their sense of self-worth and their place in the world. It shifts between moments of profound despair and glimpses of hope, ultimately finding solace in a simple, intimate connection with another person. The language is fragmented, mimicking the speaker’s internal turmoil, and leaves the reader to piece together the emotional journey.

There is a faith and there is the faith,
A difference of just one word much maketh.
There is hope and hope.
Is this all that we have to embrace and cope?

Sickness, healing, breathing.
Connected in a never-ending dance.
What are they seeding?
What are they needing?
But one night spent on a true romance?

While walking behind you, this is where I feel valued,
Followed, salvaged and allowed.
Hollowed, slandered, traveled…

It’s time to go home?
Circle back and be gone?
Turn into stone?
Or continue to walk alone?

None.

All I need is a clear sky, the moon,
Maybe a tune, maybe a broom.
Look at the forest and sense woormth,
From none other than your hand’s finger number fourth.