Friday, April 12, 2019

loving these least

Do you ever feel, mid-conversation
with the elderly eyes you are staring in,
tearing up from the wind,
a deep love well up from you,
the primal urge to protect the fragile soul that meets you,
the call of ownership,
to hold this person who you speak with as gently as a crocus.

All the crocus blooms I've crushed
remind me to carry this heart gently,
make space for them to breathe and grow,
for the sake not of the ones I've dropped,
but simply for the sake of the soul
whose goodness overflows into now.

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