Lonely Our

Lonely Our

Lonely is a tale the afflicted may be willing to share, but to no avail
Because no one is there
Solo behind a podium
Addressing the air
Lonely is a chameleon
Of shades, stages and phases
Buried under naked faces
Painstakingly aching for a voice
to fill the void
Enshrouded in silence, the loudest noise
Lonely is the absence of heat
Shivering bones clack and crackling
Back and forth
Sticks seeking friction for a fire
To melt the snow blanketing the soul
Difficult to detect, harder to confess
A desire to connect
At the edge of a bar
Where others are coupled
Mothered and brothered
A stranger sips sulking by the glass
And receives our deepest empathy
A reflection of our projection
This expression
We know sole well
Embedded with an encumbered presence  
A black sunset 

Stephen Satterfield is a writer, activist, digital media producer, and the inaugural Food Writing Fellow at Civil Eats. 

 

The Lonely Hour 101

The Lonely Hour 101

Mommy Needs a Time Out

Mommy Needs a Time Out