Solitude the Intruder


by Janet Moore

Solitude is such an alien word
To those less trained by it

Perhaps to them it denotes

To be less loved

To be somehow ostracized

Perhaps we have become

So accustomed to noise

That solitude is seen

As intrusion

In one’s scheme of things

It is a quaint feeling I have

Almost nostalgic nowadays

As if solitude is my true

And long lost friend

Who has returned with vigour

From some far country

Fresh and appealing

Familiar yet different

Ready to renew

That which was breached

I feel an urgent tugging

A pull at my very heart

A call from that secret

Inner sanctum

My own secret garden

In which God speaks to me

Chiding and entreating

A place of understanding

A place where love

Is at its utmost


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