Bring Them Home

Reaching out to others is a burden I can’t half,

Though it’s laudable, it’s laughable,

As if my concern lasts

Way beyond the slightest

Of your needs,

As if I fit,

Laughable,

Truly,

Beyond, in fact,

Really,

Think of it.

That one such one

As me or you,

Such a tiny voice in all,

Should make the slightest difference.

Insignificant withal.

Yet the someone,

Maybe not me,

In fact, the chance is slim,

But someone,

Someone close or far,

Some she

Or maybe him,

Bequeaths the words,

That gust of air,

That treasured little drop,

That tiny, teensy something

That urges, do not stop.

Be the voice,

The shouting one,

The silent, but for tone,

The something

Just for someone

That may bring that someone home.

In Praise Of Unique

Before there was liberation

There was salutation,

Supplication,

Fear.

Before there was liberation

There was sadness

Mixed with joy

And some tears.

Before there was liberation

There was angst

Filled with worry,

Too much noise.

Still, with the liberation,

Sadness, tears and worry

Don’t depart

But now they’re voiced.

 

For my beautiful daughter.

Heart of my life,

One of the seven.

One of the world.

Unique.

For our children.

All children.

All unique.

Sung of Trusting Hearts

Who do you trust with your heartbeat,

Your friend, your husband, your wife,

The one by your side, do you let them inside 

To caress and keep beats of your life.

Is their touch the soft hand of an angel,

The firm but the gentle with heart,

Can you trust that their love will secure it

And keep it from stopping with start.

Do their fingers pulse to your heartstrings

And strum all your worries away,

Kept alive by the touch of another

With heart massag’d lovingly each day.

So who do you trust with your heartbeats,

Be it woman or man of your choice,

Be it child or a friend or a lover,

Let them play you with touch of their voice

For the touch of an angel is spoken

In the words that fall from their lips,

Their blessing sustains all hearts broken

But, more, they protect it from this.

This feels like a song, it sounds like a song to me. The music is optional. Your own tune fits just as well as mine.

 

Simply Known

Some things are clearer in darkness,

Sight abides,

Some touch is more tender with absence,

Felt inside,

Some sounds are louder in silence,

Heard within,

Some tastes always linger in memory,

Salt of skin,

Some senses respond minus stimuli,

Simply known,

Some love needs nothing to guide it,

Still shown.

Some senses are stolen in time’s stakes,

Such a sin,

Some, though, are never forgotten,

Win, win.