by Annette Snyckers

At this moment
I cannot love you,
cannot begin to grasp
the map that fear has etched
upon your trusting heart —
grooved deep, painful paths
upon its peaceful plains
and tunnelled through
to valleys of your doubts.

Weary from travelling
against the signposts
of your lassitude,
your gaze is fixed.
You will yourself
against the need
to stop and rest.

These rough inroads
throw up dark dust
as you push forever on.
I cannot see you,
please pause
and let me find you.


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