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by: Tierra Baker
The comfort of her bosom
The horror in her eyes as
She comments on my haunted face
Shocked by pains� icy image
She takes me in her arms and
Helps me nestle; nudge at the
Maternal love I crave.
Another gives me her hand
Warm and fleshy with the
Brittle give of oncoming years.
I stare into her true
Blue, searching for a reason to her
Love. She keeps on giving and slowly
I am learning to receive.
And the next with her open face
Hugs me fiercely, hoping to osmote
Her belief in my strength. Her love is
Free, simple and devoted. As she
Sits and listens, love becomes an
Installation within my battered
And constricted chest
Still another stands naked in her nightshirt
Silhouetted in anxious moonlight
Concern etched in contrast to her health.
Charged currents now dissolve our relations
As we are alienated by our individual
Cerebral mechanisms. She has been my life
Support. Now I am breathing all alone.
Many more �rescue� me with their
Words and eyes. They give me laughter
And they gently dab away my tears
They call me their �hero�, but they know
When to tease me too. So many saviours bless
Each of my days. I know I am safe
Under their gentle guidance.
In the arms of the angel
Safe in my
Silent, savage, searching reverie.
Their wings gently shield me from
The harshness of heaven�s light.
Thanks to their protection, "I will not
Go softly into that good night."
©2002 Tierra Baker.
Reprinted with Permission.
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