by David Dephy
We still believe that everything in the world is,
in some way, our reflection, we cannot be alone,
turning our breath into a song, wounds into wisdom,
then dawn appears, like the echo of that song.
I am not going to change you.
You are the mirror of myself, as I am yours.
I still remember that bird flying above Pearl Street
in the Financial District in Manhattan,
as if the sky was its mother,
the bird hugging and kissing the air,
the sky so close to me, so clear,
reflecting the buildings
on its transparent body
with the centuries of revelations.
The sky was the mirror of earth,
that day, and I felt that smell,
the smell of expectation we both love,
but now looking at the reflections on water
we see how we changed— belief without love is illusion,
we are what we hear, doubt is deadlier,
but fear cuts deeper than air,
and we are not moving toward revenge,
we forgive ourselves our own loneliness,
it’s hard to form, but we still believe
that we are still close to each other,
as the sun always seems very close in water.
About the Author:
David Dephy (he/him) (pronounced as “DAY-vid DE-fee”), is an American award-winning poet and novelist. The founder of Poetry Orchestra. Poet-in-Residence for Brownstone Poets 2024. His poem, “A Sense of Purpose,” is going to the Moon by The Lunar Codex, NASA, and Brick Street Poetry in 2024. He is named as “A Literature Luminary” by Bowery Poetry, “Stellar Poet” by Voices of Poetry, “Incomparable Poet” by Statorec, “Brilliant Grace” by Headline Poetry & Press and “Extremely Unique Poetic Voice” by Cultural Daily. He lives and works in New York City.