An unspoken word
came to me
in a dream last night
it sat upon my heart
and nestled close,
seeking shelter
it didn’t want to talk
or need consolation,
only peaceful sleep
so I held it,
stroking it
as I stroke my child’s head,
whispering: I’m sorry
and it sighed
and wrote
upon the palm of my hand:
you are my home
take care of me
then I began to pray
for warm hands,
for tenderness,
for calm,
for understanding,
for anything
that could calm
what still wanted to scream
under my skin
my forgotten word,
you have been waking me
every night
for several years
for a moment, I believed
I could come closer to you
and become part
of a better world
maybe my failure
is my shelter?
I wasn’t a harbor for you,
nor warm bread,
and still, you stayed
do you see
how many metaphors I have written
to make peace
with myself?