Solitude

And its profound nature.

Solitude
is profound.

In contrast, galvanizing.
A tongue submerged
in sweet-water
pines for the taste of salt—or bitterness.

Alone, I watch time like paint,
to slow it down;
catch a plant in the act
of growing,

the moment my dog
slips to slumber.
I wonder if I’m ever right,
when I suspect sleep has taken her entirely.
I would like to know,
down to the very second.

We all have that thing we want to do before we die.
For many, jumping from a plane
is enough to call it quits but I won’t go
until I feel a smile-crease, stay
for the very first time.

I just hope to befriend solitude by then;

to connect with white-blue glacier
under sun-lit moon,
admire the Indian Paintbrush—how it threads through
rock and root, up jagged mountain peak,
(where it finds a meadow to call “home.”)

Do you hear the trickling stream?

A gentle sigh over
sharp earth; not long
before it is soft, not long
before

I am soft.

© P. Ryan

Looking for a prompt? Write a poem inspired by one of the things below, then share it in the comments!

I. A room after everyone has left

Describe what absence looks, sounds, and smells like. Let the room do the feeling.

II. The last person awake

A building full of sleeping people — and you, still awake. Write from that threshold.

III. Solitude inside a relationship

The loneliness that exists alongside someone else. Name what rarely gets named.

IV. A ritual you perform alone

Coffee, a night walk, locking the door. Ground the poem in one specific, repeated act.

V. Write only in second person

Use “you” throughout. Let the reader feel both seen and alone at once.