Did you hear me?

Did you hear me, when I called,
from that soft spot in deep night,
half asleep, half awake, wondering
if it was all real, or merely some

imagining, and still you were there,
waiting, in the belly of expectant
day, to resume the place you had
held, in my heart and in my life?

Tender self, how you wept through
languished days, and dried your
bitter eyes in sullen darkness, hoping
that the pain would ease and heart

would once again begin to breathe,
steady, softly, slowly, as if it held
to hope, encouraged by the sudden
tweetings of awakened small birds,

struggling through dawn's embrace,
holding to the hands of angels,
whispering through neatly sown
dreams of endless possibility.