17 Letters

Words. They were just simple words typed by me,
on my little pink computer, sealed and mailed,
addressed to you in A2.
But they were also my soul. They were me.
I poured my sorrows under your heart,
secured my secrets in the faucets of your mind,
shoved hope into webbing of your eyes.
Or maybe it was my eyes in the mirror?
I dreamed for you and planned with you,
pushing. Saying “you can”.
And you could.

The people will talk their talk and turn their heads
until the light shines through. Shows truth.
Then they will gaze. You still can.

Remember the first one I wrote? I spoke of family,
pretending all was fine, normal.
By the seventh letter you had a pen
and I was able to ask you questions,
wait for a response.
I waited and one came.
Everything changed and I pushed harder,
asked more questions, said “you can”.

The flag rose at least twice a week.
Several more pages and envelopes emerge from 1906.
I wrote more each letter, stuffing the words into you;
family, support, advice, info. I waited for a reply.
I realized one wasn’t coming. But I wrote more anyway.