Grapevine

every morning i put
landmarks
after having surveyed
night's domains

meeting people and
hearing their own stories
taking notes where i can
possible situate my feet

my hands are not fists
they are tributaries of fingers
i have seen worlds
compared it with mine

there is this empathy
that somehow redeems my losses
how wonderful is the listening
about the travails of suffering

it lessens mine
grapevine

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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