Poet: David Tensen
The longing for lost things
begins as you do.
Your mother was more mobile
before you filled her belly.
She lost her balance
along with sleep
and shape
and random acts of selfishness.
It’s strange;
even though
we breathe loss
into our forming lungs
before air enables a scream,
the falling tide of life
only seems to remind us
we were made for more than this.
Perhaps this longing
is the eternal flint
that strikes against
the sharp edges of loss.
Perhaps this flame in our chest
for a saviour of sorts
must be welcomed
if our screams
are to become
songs of hope.
David Tensen
About the poet
David can often be found weaving his hours into family, friends, writing poetry, collecting typewriters and mentoring emerging poets. You can find more of his work and books at www.davidtensen.com, www.poetrychapel.com, and social media: Facebook @davidtensen and Instagram @david_tensen