The people down below
Have been doused for days;
a proper washing…
Where’s the scrub brush?
A little misting wouldn’t do.
The sunshine, a large kindly dose,
Was sent to warm them fully,
To rebirth their kindness,
To widen their eyes….
To the needs of those hurting,
To remind them,
even beauty can be harsh;
Even Blinding at times,
Why did they not slow….to smile at one another?
Why didn’t they stop to splash about?
I didn’t want to pummel them with non-stop rain,
But they needed to be soaked,
Plastered, sopping, cold to the bone
Look up, take note
You are not so alone
Why, when I see her
Do I remember all that she was not?
She loved me enough to trust I knew…..
Where those secret girl supplies were,
To be nursemaid of the world,
To care for others unflinchingly,
Without burdens of my own.
Of course I knew they were under the sink
Words were redundant, frivolous. She raised me not to bat an eye
At bloodshed, or crime-filled neighborhoods, or stick-shifts or the poor,
Or belly aches that would rupture and burst her vision
Of me, as tough, or having a heartbeat at all.
They called me accident prone
I called me a beacon of humanity
A “me”….placed upon this earth to slow her down.
I’m still waiting to be something more
to her, than a reflection