Sweet body
vacated long ago
in the midst of
surgeries, chemo, radiation
with harsh accusations
of betrayal.
Faithful companion
gently holding
heart and soul
while quietly,
patiently
...
waiting.
Soothing, strong strokes
coax calming, deep breaths
Soft music, kind presence
all healing cradle,
blessedly assuring.
And in the quiet
rises an achingly tender
I'm still here, Love.
I'm still here.
It is safe to come home.
(tears)
(Wanting to remember the lines from the face cradle,
I took the picture above after a massage today)
. * .
Hi! Thanks for stopping by my blog today :) It reminded me to come over and see what you've been up to! This is a beautiful poem. I wish I could write poetry but I always get stuck. I can do those 'I AM...' poems with the prompts, that's good enough.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Zoe. I was really pleased with it. :)
DeleteI was really moved by your poem. Massage is such a healing experience...on so many levels. How beautiful and peaceful you look in this photo. SO lovely.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Raine. Your kind words and your understanding mean a lot to me. <3
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