unearth

to feel unloved

to be small and call out 
expectant, determined
to watch each call go unanswered 
to feel unwanted 

to pile small mountains of despair
inside the tender flute of a throat 
stash canons of dissolving hope
along the banks of a spine

to remember tiny pendulums of desire
insistent on being perfectly met, on draping
each bead of presence in its fresh enchantment

to feel unloved
to be small and call out
from the infinite arising inside

to feel unlovable, splintering each
tender threshold of faith

to stuff each hollow wanting
with desperate bargaining
lather the ache of powerlessness 
in quiet ruins, in deciding I was never
enough, never worthy of more 
than these tired scraps of our divinity

to hush swollen lungs on hard
swallowed numbing, tucked in
the corner of the inheritance of all
they had to give, their overflowing
cup of feeling unloved 

where small militias of lessons too
well learned pack parched and
cracking heartstrings in icy chests 
dig sharpened fingernails in any
kindness veering dangerously
close to the stores of emptied longing

to feel unloved, rocked in the strained
strength of endurance, steadied in
shallow breaths of getting through 

to watch for lost ships of days and
decades, as the tides go out, the grips
go slack on belonging to your life 

to feel unloved and to decide to surrender
each careful barricade, one slow grain of
mending at a time, to place soft hope in
the mouth of your prayers, to feel unloved
and to decide to reach