A friend, and fellow poet, stated on social media, “I'm having a real hard time defining the word ‘friend’ lately”. I was already thinking about friendships, replying to my friend, “(I wonder) if people realize how much I consider them friends based on their importance in my life. The importance is not based on what they do for me. It is the fact they bring a measure of joy to a life that would be terminated if it were not for these measures of grace”. These thoughts led me to write the poem “Alike in My Eyes”, a further explanation of the complexity and simplicity of friendship.
Alike in My Eyes
It's not a matter of accolades
or time spent in company
instead another measure holds
that of emotion's impacting grace
prompts me to call them friend
hold them close to my heart
each unique unto themselves
yet so much alike in my eyes.
They are scattered amongst the tribes
many more than the twelve of old
some in the grip of engaged war
spurned by dogma and fixed beliefs
these are put aside when we engage
or ignored for the noise they make
simple souls with a human face
matters more than tenet's din.
Their efforts may move hills
shaping lands with teamwork's push
yet most are only a nudge
passing on the wind of fate
sharing only time, so little more
believing deeds were mundane
if only they knew continents
were shifted within my sight.
Nearness would be ideal
the greatest have not met my eyes
in person greeting, instead remote
with affection granted to those detached
no proximity in the every day
still their presence presses in
the thoughts and words in cyber-realms
so much nearer than those I can touch.
Then there is the matter of frequency
how often contact is at hand
this matters not for the ones
who hold concern when we are mute
I do the same, the heavens paused
worlds are frozen with time stopped
knowing that contact will start the clock
as if the last touch was yesterday.
There are those who may not know
of the very heights their stock has climbed
with affection's mark against their name
in my secret book of fellowship
I can only hope they may feel the same
though it matters not if they do
encouragement is felt in shadow's place
may the divine know their name.
In the end I am sustained
against the ills that sap my will
asking me to withdraw from life
in desperation of loneliness
when ideation asks its price
far too much for circumstance
I fight back with hope's comfort
the sum of all is more than parts.
Words fail when I say friend
many tribes, both near and far
frequency tempered by the intent
those that know and the unaware
grace has a name that better suits
this I will hold to my breast
with the knowledge that God approves
of what I call my dearest friends.
© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170308.