In the Cold

We do reap
What we sew
            So
Silence and Isolation
beget
Silence and Isolation

As Scrooge discovered

                     But
When
Silence and Isolation
live side-by-side 
with Compassion
with Introspection

When
Silence and Isolation
are born 
not of Disdain
not of Prejudice

When 
Silence and Isolation
arise 
from Fear
from Doubt

           Then
Is it truly
Miserly?

When the greed 
is not for More
but for Less
             Then
What is truly Sown?
What is truly Reaped?

I see her so clearly this morning.
I see her sitting.  Silent.  Alone
in her chair.  Her life reduced to so
few things.  To so few people.

Chair.  Television.  Water mug.
Me.

And I write,
On these cold mornings, I miss her most.


                                       But
That is 
        Un
True

There is no
           Most

There is only
             Always

Always
Always
Always.

2 thoughts on “In the Cold

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