This poem is not about you.

I was at the gate.

The view was spectacular.

“I can see it!” I said.“Can you see it?

” I said.You said,

“You read too much into things.”

I was at the gate.

My legs ached for that field.

“Let’s run!”

I said.You said,

“But we just got here.”

I limped to the pool of my longing.

I looked in and said,

“My left eye is dim.

My right foot is lame.

Look at me now.”

And She said to me,

“Believe what you see … and run.”                               SUHAIL JAN