This poem was inspired by the fascination of open windows, closed lives, and the secrets people try to hide behind them. Witnessing something so private is rather intimate, and writing that down was a lot of fun.
“The View From Here”
A light is on, illuminating their
sane, private stories through a dirty pane.
Across the street I sit, and yet we share
a bond no friend or lover could explain.
It is a glance, a journal page exposed,
a messy, tough confession written true.
It is a curse, a break, secret disclosed,
so loudly spoken, all the neighbors knew.
A life in human language, beauty made
in choices: broken glass, shaking hands,
a dress is torn and frayed, a bill not paid,
a bloody stain, a face, a frantic look ‒
A stillness, closed window and curtains drawn;
And now the stories known between us, gone.
After I wrote this poem, a friend approached me with a story. He told me when he was younger, he used to live in a trailer park, where he was friends with another young boy. He proceeded to tell me that when they would always play outside in the dark, they would occasionally overhear his friend’s parents arguing. With full view of it, screaming faces and all, they would sometimes see too much of his parents’ lives. Although they both attempted to distract themselves from it, everything was still exposed accidentally. I think that story somehow makes the poem better.
