The World in her Arms
I am to be the strong one
shoulder tears
hold her in joy, grief and ache
robust, sturdy framed
at the ready for anything…
human I am though, moments
admit, I do
linger far too long
she, opens her arms and
safe, warm, sheltered
how mine own rivers slow
to a trickle
the world, in all its ills
lies at long-arm’s length
far from
our quiet bliss
