More felt than Heard

I met a poet today, though
he did not look like a poet.
But, while passing me by
I saw the tear on his cheek
and a look in his eye.

Exposed and vulnerable
I watched as he cried.
Something in me resonated
as something in the poet died.

The pain on his face, spoke
to the wound of my yesterday,
in a language more felt than heard.
And as he paused to glance my way
a more obvious thought occurred.

Few are the days when two souls meet.
Was this by chance or destiny?
So, like a dance no one leads
rhythm was veiled in mystery.

Now in the mirror it’s his face I see
and the poet I met- looks a lot like me.

- Cameron Dockery

www.camdockery.com