When did I get old, when was I young?
When did I need to hear your voice,
Feel your breath as you whisper in my ear?
Was it when we were on the corner of the ceiling, trying to escape?
When we were nauseous in the chemo chair
When they said we didn't matter
And we begged them to love us anyway
When was our skin soft and strong, when was it thin and weak
Do I have advice for you? Do you have advice for me?
I want to connect with you
Hold you close
I want to tell you I am sorry
That life hurts, that life shouldn't be that way
That you deserve love not shame
That you deserve joy not guilt
But I can barely believe it myself, all old and grown.
I teeter on the edge of sadness
Every. Day.
I know you did too
Is it our fate to live in trauma
In tears and despair?
But then... the beat pulses from your radio
and birds flap their wings
we dance and sing
and write and speak
Do you remember those times too?
I do.
Come here, I whisper.
Hold my hand. Lean against me.
Feel this breath we share.
I know... Lets stomp our feet
run through the mustard flower
stretch our arms like tree limbs into the puffy sky.
Without wondering if any advice I give
Will heal you. Or me.
Let's be here
Just
You
me
Do you feel it
I will hold your hand.
Lean against me.
I love you
Little one
together
we
These words and images are the property of the poet, Sharon Frances.
Do not use in part or whole without permission.
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