It will come like this, if nothing else. A whisper in the rain that no one hears but me, an old poem from years ago that I guess I still remember. Maybe you can hear me, finding your heart where you never though it'd be. It will pour down steady, scatter on your window, rush down the road, and drain away. Listen closely, listen closely...


please protect me
from what I want
habitual contempt
doesn't reflect
a higher sensibility
stand in my arms;
please look in my eyes
don't suffocate me
with your American disguise
let me know
how completely
you have been alone
and if you want to be Canadian
you are,
welcome home

until we meet again
know that I am well
in every sense of the word
and I will still be trying
to make my way
in every sense
of the world


May 14, 2017
Beaconsfield, Nova Scotia