I swear my chest bursts every time
you utter a phrase that should come from lips
three times your age,
and I wish I could transform
the monsters in your brain –
the ones who cast spells on your spirit
and plague your everlasting power
into fool’s charade –
to nimble, white fairies that exit your eyes,
so you radiate the light
that I know takes refuge inside the fight
that eats through the heart caged beneath your bones
‘til the white oaks of Winter
drop leaves from their arms
with deaths that fall softly and colors that dim;
Come spring, we may not believe they have lived.
So, take my hand; it’s all I can offer.
Lean on my shoulder when you can’t stand.
I can’t promise a tear won’t escape from my eye
and drip from the cheek that rests on your head
in a silence that shouts so many words
full of the love that can’t fix it.
My arms are a home, but they’re not an escape,
and there’s bliss in your blood that will heal,
So, listen to the hum of the bees in the trees,
the birds that build homes amongst the shattered leaves,
and know that there’s life left within your cracks,
and your scars will always be beautiful.
And when you gather the will to outweigh the fear…
I still won’t leave your side.