the giving of salt,
is a delicate thing.
there will always be,
salt
at my table, for those
who grieve, or have lost.
salt can be,
the smallest of things,
the merest touch of
compassionate hands,
a glance,
a memory,
a treasured photograph,
a fragrance that lingers,
even though they are not
there.
it is hard to recieve,
these gifts of salt,
often given freely
from
a caring heart.
when all you desire
is to,
hide and fade away.
but the secret of salt
is in, the reminder,
that
for the sake of all,
you need to stay.
there is salt in crying,
salt in tears,
sometimes
there is salt
in the quiet solitude,
the contemplation of the, changing years.
there is,
little, to no,
salt
in allowing your fear
any power,
any place.
there is much salt
in
finding the strength
to run
your allotted
marathon.
salt can heal,
the heart,
broken.
give strength
to those,
faint and lagging.
reknit,
the patchwork mind.
we will all need,
the gift of
salt....
mutiple times,
through the years,
of our life.
salt is universal,
to all manner of man.
salt is salt unto itself,
salt is ever, needful
salt is always, always kind.
yet,
still,
the giving of salt,
is such a delicate thing
napowrimo day 12
prompt: write replacement poem
in this piece i replaced
the word comfort with the word salt
