People share
Stuff with me,
From the mundane
To the horrific;
When we sit together
It all comes out
In drips….
Free flow, and like
***** —


     I hold it
As if it were
A porcelain vase;
Fragile yet robust
And I triage,


The greater needs
At large:
Safety,
Reconnection
And calm.
So their sense of self
Is held.

The world is a good place —
But there are some f#*cked up
People in it.

I can't stop the damage;
But I can hold the fragments
And pay homage
To the extraordinary
Lives of courage.