Poetry

To Whom It May Concern

A love letter

Image credit: Liga Kalnina

I do not know who you are,

but I’ve been searching.

I’ve followed you, so far,

from the beginning of time,

to the end of my wit.

Now, I am sick,

and I grow tired.

I am sick and i am tired

of feeling tired and sick;

my veins are clotted thick

with blood that yearns to pump –

but my heart is stopped.

My breath is held,

I steel myself,

I hold my soul

in suspended animation,

frozen in anticipation

and hope;

Hope that one day I might see

your careful hands

reaching out for me.

That your weary eyes

will finally realise

I am here,

as I have always been

here waiting,

For you.