Unalone
I have a friend
in stillness,
in the dark,
the cold
of snow,
the gaudy days,
the nights
of destitution,
in the quiet,
a moment, … almost,
the sweet voice
of wind, and
old skin.
That friend,
nay, that confusion
is a remote shadow,
scattering my thoughts.
I am unalone.
I Have a Friend
with whom I am confused, so alike are we in varying. I say a friend, and yet we never seek each other out, and seldom speak, but meeting often on the same ground — which is familiar no matter where we are — we lower our heads as before a mirror we rather did not see, despite or because, we are so similar.
—— William Justema (from the Poetry Foundation)
written for dVerse, “Write a Response to an Existing Poem”
It's Still Life 
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