Who, dear heart
Rugged hiker
through dark forests,
up steep hills,
down into valleys
where footing is treacherous,
O my heart, wounded
and weary voyager,
what visitor
will grace you with solace,
will bestow healing
as the dew of Hermon,
who, dear heart,
dear engine of love and pain,
who will be midwife
to your second, to your third,
to your thousandth birth?
Poetry by Uncle Meridian
Read 63 times
Written on 2024-02-18 at 06:19
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