I See You

I see you

sitting in the quiet

with the gaping open doors

and empty rooms

with your eyes

turned inward, wishing

for the sound of feet in the hall

or a door closing

or the echo of a laugh

I see you 

huddled in your room

waiting for the storm to pass

the fight that never ends

outside, as you plug your ears

and hum to yourself, hoping

for the morning to erase

your tears, fear making a 

tangled knot of your heart

I see you

pulling out your hair

as the anxious panic

rises as if to drown 

your sanity, up to your eyes

in saltwater, waiting for air

your eyes turned upward toward

the light dimly appearing

over the horizon

I see you

aching for a friendly ear,

a gentle voice, the hum 

of conversation, the buzz

of business as you wait

for what you see as life

to re-emerge from hibernation

I see you 

hanging on for dear life

as children, pets, laundry,

meals, working-from-home,

Zoom calls, bills, a husband,

a to-do list... loom before you,

ever-present, needy, wanting

more of you— the more you

do not have.

I see you

But do you see me?

I’m waiting. I’m here.

See my hand?

It’s already out.

You don’t even have to 

call loudly for me. 

Just whisper,

“I’m ready.”

I’ll hold you 

when no one else can.

Talk to me.

I’m a friendly ear,

a gentle voice.

I’ll be with you 

when no one else can

and always.