seen

I’m pounding on the glass of my eyes,
waiting for you to reply
to a question I can’t verbalize,
to open the door
and find me sitting here outside,
knocking with silent hands,
spilling over with sighs.

I’m pounding on the glass of my brain,
searching for an answer
to the problem of pain,
for strength to move,
for words to speak-
knocking at the door of your love,
longing to be seen.