The Longing

 Foundation.

A poem exploring isolation, longing, and the desire for emotional connection across time or space.

A speaker—possibly a lost soul, or even a metaphorical consciousness, stumbles upon a heartfelt letter written by someone else.

Title.

The Longing 

(A lone voice whispers)

At the void in the lost letters of the world room

Sat in this tomb opening letters for an address to write back to 

I suddenly came across you 

Your letter to your unmet lover called to me and created an impression, that I could never forget 

Neither from the soft words nor in its radiance, but in its dance and rhythmic sounds that falls

Its beautiful cadence

 

Praying for the spirit of the righteous to intervene 

So as I sit here where your past and future stand to attention like soldiers in Arlington National Cemetery

I feel a longing

A pull

A deep need to say a Hail Mary

Neither with a slow movement forwards, nor backwards 

Or ascent nor descent, but a magnetism that holds me in a tight grip

Daring me to want to feel what you feel, with my trembling fingertips 

So, Mary Lou, will you reply, because by writing to you.

I can escape this lonely old room

A darkened tomb where hopes and dreams 

Arrive.

Cry, fester, and then unfortunately die  

Interpretation of The Longing.

The poem’s setting—a quiet room likened to a tomb—mirrors deep internal isolation. 

The speaker finds themselves opening “lost letters,” as if searching through the fragments of other souls’ experiences, longing for connection.

Emotional resonance

Encountering another person’s heartfelt letter creates a powerful pull.

 

It's not just the words that captivate, but their rhythm, cadence, and emotional glow.

Temporal dislocation.

Surrounded by metaphors of tombs and soldiers, time feels suspended and sacred—a meeting of past and future, memory and longing.

Religious undertones.

The poem invokes a prayerful tone—“pray for the spirit of the righteous”—and even a cadence reminiscent of saying a Hail Mary. 

This spiritual longing hints at redemption or transcendence through connection.

Wanting to “feel what you feel, with my trembling fingertips” speaks to yearning for empathetic connection that is simultaneously delicate and urgent.

A plea for reply, an escape.

The question “So, Mary Lou, will you reply?” ties the act of writing back to liberation: a response might free the speaker from the tomb of loneliness.

The fate of hopes, dreams, and grief.

In this “tomb,” dreams and hopes “cry, fester, and then… die,” suggesting that without connection, emotional life decays.

A powerful meditation on the spaces between people—across time, memory, faith, and longing. 

The act of reading someone’s words, especially those meant for another soul, becomes a bridge, a chance at escape from loneliness. 

It’s about how language can become magnetic, spiritual, and even redemptive when you allow yourself to be moved by another voice.

Is that why you read this far?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared under fair usage policy.