That bit

There is no word to call the bit
That we don’t know of one another:
The mind, the thoughts, the life unseen,

Unheard, the feelings.
Everything we guess about
and we don’t know off; pain.

The secret distance from the you to me
Seems shorter now the lights are dimmed,
And almost as in tune we breathe and talk and see.

The bit unknown, the private will, the smile
Behind the hand on which you rest your head,
All that.

There is no word to call it by its name and yet
It is what makes you you, me me.
No one the same.

Comments on: "That bit" (16)

  1. Wow, that’s a beauty of a poem, typo or not. The 3rd stanza is a marvel, but the whole poem, magnificent!

  2. This is very beautiful and true, Ina. ❤

  3. This is wonderful Ina.

  4. Hereafter it shall be known as ‘the bit’. I got a bit, you got a bit, all God’s children got a bit.

  5. Beautiful poem Ina, just lovely ❤️ Xxx

  6. So beautiful, {{{Ina}}}. The unity of separateness. Love in all its layers and wholeness. Hugs and much love. XO ❤

  7. Jane Thorne said:

    A wonderful collection of bits ❤

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