Musing With Balm
I wish I could heal you,
To bring you into my arms and soothe you, restore you,
Tell you everything kindly, gently.
But that is not who I am.
I yell out, OUT! into nothing. 'Who am I? ' 'What am I? '
Does my name, my title, mean anything at all?
Perhaps I embalm you. Preserve you.