adequacy

Somebody said tonight

there’s something missing about you,

some way you don't seem quite enough for what

they think that you should be. And I thought, 

even if that’s true,

there is so much, much more to you – 

the other truth that I can see,

the side of you you turn to me.

For one, your keen tranquility – alert

but unconcerned – 

I’m used to seeing it in older folks,

in those who feel no hurry to 

arrive or to achieve. I thought, somehow

you’ve learned to turn that off 

when you are learning something new from people

or from books – you love to learn.

I thought of how you notice

things I thought I hid – you hear things

people think they've been left lonely with –

you give the warmest hugs, soft but

invested, so unguarded,

so relaxed, so safe. I thought

that they say what they say cause they         

don’t see this side you’ve turned toward me,        

this face I meet, these listening ears, these arms 

that hug me without fear. I thought 

maybe they lacked something themselves;
the warmth inside your hugs is missing from

the way they looked at you.