Poetry - Enough

A poem

I have wasted
this life enough -
in self-quarrel,
in staring into
the cold hearts of
unkept promises,
in not staying to
watch the sunset
when the sunset was
sunset enough.

So let me tell you.
Wherever you are now,
listen -
"I forgive myself."
Your hands,
your hands held me enough.
They were hands
enough when
they were hands.

Which is to say,
don't look into my eyes
when we meet.
They hold shadows
when they are open.
Look for horses of dreams
when I close them.
Big, bold dreams
of a golden sky, and manes
and manes and manes.

Come here.
Before anything,
I am a mother.
And this was where
my heart melted into
the shape of your heart
because it was heart enough.

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