Human darkness passes from hand to hand on heavy limbs.
We are all shaded things, heavy with shadows;
I will take yours from you, gently,
With soft hands and open ears.
Your sins are familiar - they are mine as well.
But, dear, I prefer the light of you,
The honest moment when (surprised)
you admit that you are not as tired
as you had thought.
Confess to me your colors awhile,
and leave your shadows be.
Tell me the laughing tale
of when you last danced in impossible joy,
Bent in shapes of startling grace.
Let your Innocence stretch its limbs.
I will sit there with you, and perhaps
for a few clear moments
the human darkness of our lives
will soften.