On days abandoned to silent contemplation
when elation, has been sat on a back burner
that’s been on slow glow
for the last 17 days and furthest
from your mind was the idea
that anyone gave a damn now
that anyone might draw near
and say.. How..
is it going?
How are you doing?
You’ve been quieter
than a church mouse
in a midwinter’s
midnight empty house
with a window creaking
in the empty wind
and only ghosts
to keep you company as friend.

Except, the mark of the friend
is the one who raps
on the quiet door
when you could no more
raise a hand to write a mail, make a call
throw a rebuttal against the dark wall
that is mood and self imposed solitude
that comes like a baleful black cloud
sitting on the sunshine
deadening the sound
of your heart
beating in time
with your over active mind
that insists…
retreat is the best option.

It isn’t.

The sign of a friend
is imposed connection
when they push you
step on step
cajoling you to tell them next
asking when you’ll phone or text
and if, after a day blurred to four
they’ll tough love push some more
and demand a response
in recompense
and self repentance
for your pointless, personal exile

it’s understood it is worthwhile
connecting, not retreating
losing self-abnegating denial
in exchange for speaking
your mind, your heart, your soul…

and knowing,
your friend,
without judging
will listen
and lighten, the load
returning the favour
you once told
them, in their darker times:

a true friend will know
and call
and will never require
anything reciprocal.

…thank you.