Below the Surface



When a vast spectrum of gray

washes across the morning

and 

when the frank, 

brilliant

 sunlight-softens


 into a white glow

shimmering along 

the rolling surface;

when

you are living under

a sorrow


too big to forget

even for minutes;

when the smiling face you

wear in the world provides a little

armor;


then it feels like 

the seventy-pound backpack

you’ve toted for months 

was temporarily lifted

by a true friend


and you can 

breathe.

You can bear 

to see what is

below the surface.



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