We are waiting to settle the rains.
As we have waited for many
many
years.

we are standing hand in hand.
Holding on
the way people do
when high-waters reach waists

The hand I hold is familiar to my heart.

soft
and sincere
And so like mine.
But quick and without callouses.
not a scar or scratch to see.

we are standing hand in hand
always.
There is no other way.
waiting to settle the rains.

And I know that I would run him away from
any harm.
Protect him
from every curse,
knife,
and word.

But I know that I am not shelter.
I am not the house to cover his head,
or the food to replenish his belly.
I cannot give him all of the things
they are taking away.

I am not shelter.

I am a heart.

I am a trip to the beach on a blistering day,
a drop of water in this desert.
I am a moment's peace in a hurricane,
a floating branch to cling to in this flood.

I am not shelter.

I am a heart.
and he is mine.