Stephen Fuller *** Poetry, Essays



On my knees, my heart releases

The weight holding under every beat

Like a man grasping for breath

In an ocean miles from land,

His ship


On my knees, my heart releases

The shout It held within every beat

Like a child Waiting to scream

at ghosts and beasts

Hiding under every dark corner, unturned.

On my knees I lift my eyes and see

Trees green again,

trees, green, again.

I made it.

Through this wintered disease

That was a plague on my heart,

That was a weight and a scream

That was all the monsters I thrust

Behind boxed memories closeted.

I made it.

And I shout.

I made it.

And I shout!


And on my knees,

I finally weep the weeping

Held back for so long.

I made it.

14 Responses to “Wondering”

  1. Annette Kalandros

    Those last three linesโ€” killer. The relief it is to โ€œweep the weeping.โ€ Beautifully penned.

    Liked by 1 person


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