Epistle to a Concrete Room
They count you four times a day.
They count the spoons, the steps, the minutes.
But in this envelope, you are unnumbered.
My pen scratches against the thin paper,
a sound like a key turning in a lock.
I write about the hawk I saw on the telephone wire,
the taste of coffee, the way the fog lifts.
Small, holy trivialities.
When I lick the stamp, I am sealing a prayer.
This letter will pass through metal detectors,
through sliding gates and heavy hands,
to find you in the dark.
It is a paper wall we lean against,
whispering to each other from opposite sides,
proving that the spirit can travel
where the body cannot go.
Jenny Hart is an innovative writer exploring complex ideas through poems, essays, and stories. Her unique voice inspires reflection, fosters empathy, and sparks meaningful conversations. A lifelong learner, she draws on diverse interests—social justice, environmental issues, and human connection—to challenge assumptions and celebrate the world’s beauty. Continuously evolving her craft, Jenny invites readers to think deeply and feel profoundly.
Amethyst Review 