What is the measure of a man?
Is it strength?
Small eager faces gathered around
A shriveled tiny woman in a cozy arm chair
The bedtime ritual of spoken word comfort
Envelopes rapt cherubim
My heart stone
Beating now through light
I forgive you for the lost stones
Western Boulevard was brutal
I remember the night you were born.
Cleaned up and swaddled in a soft pink cocoon.
Holding you close, sweet newness emanated from your forehead
Dreams of tea parties, shopping trips and girl bondings
There are times when words fail,
When discord and wrath prevail.
How I long to be a vessel of peace,
To commit to action Biblical teachings.
Words come tumbling from super slick mouths,
Dripping over unsuspecting victims like fresh squeezed juice.
Designed to quench parched ears that long for sips from the glass full of wet, kind words.
If I could go back
To where you found me
Before the eggshells
Before the drama