M. Stephens Hall INFJ
M. Stephens Hall is the author of The Other Boy, a memoir about navigating his son's brain tumor and special needs as a sensitive, intuitive father. He is an INFJ, a father of three, and a technology professional who has spent decades processing the world by writing it down. Ink & Gravity is where that processing takes the form of poetry — compressed, imagistic, and unafraid of the dark. The work here is spare by design. Every word is load-bearing. He believes some truths are too precise for prose. Poetry is what's left when everything unnecessary has been stripped away. What remains is the weight of the thing itself. Some things leave a permanent mark. This is where those things live.

Tempest

It hit you like a sudden breeze. A tempest. Your heart was out there. Open. Exposed. You looked away but for a moment. Then realized it had wandered away. Your

Worth

You question your worth. But it cannot be measured. Not by a king, a queen, or even a jester. I don’t understand why you feel this pain. Comparing yourself to

Mutual Affection

Amid my struggles with sadness earlier this year, I’ve thought a lot about friends. I’ve pondered, “What is a friend to me?” and “What defines a friend?”. Is a friend

Release

I met her at a crash. And something struck me. It was more of a whisk than a bash. A connection was made. But sometimes the demons we cannot escape.

I Walk Along

I walk along. Unsure of myself. Confident in the least. But look at her. She’s just like me. Yet she appears so powerful and complete. I could never be that.

Death Drove By

Death drove by me on the road today. As she passed me by, she looked my way. The paint on the road all faded to grey. She looked back at

The Wall

Go away she said. Away from me. Blocked! Unblocked. And Blocked again! It never feels good when its from a friend. It mirrors my childhood from back in the day.

Smiling Down

Who was he to you? I have not a clue. But I know it hurts. I feel it too. A friend. A bud. You loved him. He cherished you. You’ll

Lonely Song

Write some code. Check the tweets. What’s on FB. Rinse repeat. A day in my life. My pains not gone. It hasn’t left. Is this what they mean by mental

The Struggle

I wake up alone, although there are four others around. I leave for the day, but sometimes not at all. When I’m fully charged, I don’t want to be alone.

The Chill of Vulnerability

When tragedy enters our lives, it causes us to realize how strong or shallow our relationships really are. There are no shortcuts. No escapes. No looking away. There is weakness,

The Thing About Pain

It seems that we live in a time, especially with social media, text messaging, email, i.e. written, instant, long distance communication, where it’s quite difficult to tell whether someone is