by Joella Wadel

Who are you—I want to know—
under the arched brow?
I could have passed by minutes earlier
and never experienced now.
How so often does courage lie unused—
acquaintance unprevailed upon!
A generous time inopportune,
and silenced, then gone.
What dearsome words were left unheard?
me driving, lonely, to abide with self.
—the cottage watching who I have become,
—the congregation mute and deaf.

Joella is a sort of regular soul who drinks poetry, inhales music, and consumes art.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy

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