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to Heal

31 August 2021

To Heal

Your palm; soft and calm

Exposed to the sky

In a ball, weak and small

At its center, curled I.

This world with its jeers

And its daggers and sneers

With its judgments that sting

And siphon off years

Tears me down

Yet the palm of your hand

Is so warm and so known

Just normal but – well, grand

Has cologne of its own

It cradles my soul

When I am not whole

From the world that will

Break and snake and cajole

All I am.

So just hold me

Console me

Rebuild and extol me

In the palm of your hand

Would you please

Please just hold me

So that I can become

All I am.

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