Greetings

Hello mistrust.
Why are you back?
There’s no room for you in my dilapidated love shack.

Hello despair.
Where have you been?
You were ever so good at being left unseen.

Hello hope.
Why are you hiding?
Get yourself out for the job of harmonizing.

Hello reality.
Where to from here?
I never expected so much involvement of fear.

Skin on skin

I love sleeping with my babies.
They no longer fit the category of baby,
but always smile
when I refer to them as such.

My son knows he is special
as he made me a mummy.
My daughter knows she is special
as she is my last baby.

I tell them all the time,
how they are loved and treasured.
I even whisper these messages as they sleep,
which often prompts a dreamy smile.

Sleeping with my babies,
is like giving a tree sunshine and rain.
It feeds me to smell and hear them beside me,
to have their presence fill all my senses.

Most of all I love their skin.
Soft and smooth like wind swept snow.
In their sleep their bodies seek mine,
and a limb always finds me in my own slumber.

As new born souls,
their skin upon mine strengthened bonds.
Now to experience skin on skin,
we continue to share pieces of each other.

One day they will wince,
when referred to as my babies.
They will view me as an old tree,
while I bask in their sun showers.

For now, this tree knows
that the branches wrapped around her babies,
is preciously desired until they seek
to only shelter in my shade.

He stays with me like a handprint on my soul

He calls me skittish,
he says I act like a beaten child and he understands why.
I agree that I view him with caution and cower waiting for the next blow.

There are no bruises upon my body.
Describing myself as broken hearted is a joke.
My heart beats strong,
my body moves forward with purpose and strength.

He seeks me.
To share my bed,
my life,
my success,
my addictive ego strokes.

I have fed him pieces of myself.
Each piece he takes deepens my chasm,
the part of me where self respect, identity and sanity is housed.
Without him,
the trembling dwelling rebuilds so rapidly.

He asks for assurance.
Confirmation that his one good day is viewed,
as being on the path back to me.
A canine companion needs the same.
A hand upon the leash and a pat on the head for a good deed.

Another pet.
A faithful dog who stands beside me,
to protect me,
love me,
adore me.

He apparently loves and adores me.
I wonder why?
Where is the faithfulness,
and where is the protection?

I have always lead,
dreamt,
healed,
fixed.

He can lead.
He can dream.
He can heal.
He can fix.

I just wish he would do it for himself,
and thereby be doing it for me too.