“Solitude is bliss” is a line
that doesn’t belong in a poem
or a traffic sign or a prose,
or a chalk scribble on a café’s
menu board atop the counter.
It belongs in a leaves’ bristle
in a bird’s whistle
or a ripple
brought forth by a droplet of dew
on one shy Spring morning.
It deserves to be etched on
a street-side mural, impressed
in icing on a toddler’s birthday cake
or scribbled on a broken-hearted man’s
morning coffee cup
maybe jotted down on a ripped notebook paper
folded and passed along absent-mindedly through
a junior high classroom.
It is a fleeting thought, a lover’s whisper, a pandemic
word of mouth
a blaring roar through the city streets sardined with busy
A reminder that none of us are alone in this
crowded lonesome little world of ours.
Copyright © Imana Gunawan