An Unspoken Invitation

I listen for
an unspoken invitation.
An opening or a need
that I can fill.
Arms or warmth,
or a twitch at the corners of your mouth.

I am always surprised
when you reveal that
you thought of me
when we were apart.
I warm to know
you thought of a question
you wanted to ask me,
even though you can't remember it now.

Sometimes I report having
thought of someone else in her absence -
or I simply call her or send an email.
This takes faith
that I'm not intruding,
faith that I offer something of value.
Faith that I can bring attention
and kindness to you,
and such wisdom as I've painfully won,
or at least the perspective
that comes from not being beset
by your problems.
Having this perspective
brings me relief from my own funk
at the same time as it is a gift.
I have faith in this
else I wouldn't dare try.

I have proven toxic in the past,
but I have reformed
sometimes.
Sometimes I can realize how I appear
self-centered and uncaring.
And sometimes I can be kind and caring.
No one I know is all of a piece,
although we try to stay in our best selves.
We slip and fall,
and get up, and stumble,
and each time we get up again
we grow stronger,
better,
kinder,
more whole,
more peaceful,
more ourselves,
and more quick to recover from our lapses.
We journey with hope,
always arriving.