Navigation
A poem by Julia R. DeStefano
Navigation
I am writing down my life from a maze,
blindfolded and feeling around for the exit or home.
It is only a matter of hands, fingers, and touch -
the key to everything -
the thing that I cannot attain.
I feel numbed and abandoned out here -
remembering how a man sang with his fingertips
and how I melted like chocolate into that ritual magic.
I craved more
or at least, the call or no call
but no more blind waiting for a thing that would or would not happen
because I am healed by connection,
set free by laughter,
and overtired from acting-out a whole play by myself.
I want to be love.
I want to be the missing ingredient to someone who holds my hand.
I want him to want to eat me up like pudding,
and actually do it.
I don’t want to be alone.
These are the ways in which we die by increments -
never learning the lessons of hunger
but always dealing with its recurrent pangs
when we thought we were completely full.
© Julia R. DeStefano
