Next Letter

This morning I’m reminded
gods don’t answer letters.
Yet I keep writing them,
hoping and praying for a sign
my words will be heard.

My unease finds its expression
in unanswerable questions.

I once thought age
might mean comprehending
more of this life.

Now I realize it requires
                  reduced expectations
                  and surrender to mystery.

My dad would say,
                  Silence is a virtue.
– and would’ve preferred always
to live by these words.

Yet what a gift it is
to be invited into conversation.

How pleasurable
to reflect out loud –
LOUDLY!

When things are too close
and I am being deprived of breath,
those silent gods can expect
my next letter.

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This poem was written on November 15, 2025.