I seldom am lost at sea
it gets rather dark
and the buoys who love me
appear when needed most.
Like a bear cub sister’s call of distress
that her brothers could hear through miles of trees,
the tears I wipe away leave streaks
that only they can see.
Then they’re library lions on either side
and the antidotes and the life preservers
thrown out from lighthouses, searching me
for hidden signs of need.
They afford me my gifts of silent nods,
of understanding, unrequested,
but all the more treasured by one who cannot
find the words to ask.