R I C H A R D   S U B B E R

 

My friend was bowed, burdened by vain striving,
his eyes unlighted, focused beyond my gaze,
he breathed the word: succor
in all its forms and meanings.
I meant to offer understanding
and belief in better futures,
I thought to promise but I knew better,
I knew the will must be his own.
I lent my arm, his gaze returned,
we affirmed the lonely joy of striving.
I ratified his longings.
I stood by him as he sought to rise
and take a firming step.

 

 

 

 

 


photo credit: https://birafonseca.com/


 

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