Living Made Alive

Pain visits her often

Her ache
Touches me
Like a run-away train
Longing to be a meandering stream

Her voice
A soft echo
The timbre of possible past life remembering
Its movement a willow tree's lament

Yet…

She walks
Paths unseen by most
Holding my hand
Maternal nature unbound

When sleeping
The quiet of her breath
Weaves thatched cover
Securing my storm-filled dreams

Upon awakening
My mind begs the heart calm
My spirit fearful of day's dawning

She beckons I return to her side
Stroking my cheek
Assuring me
There be no light out there
Not already within me

What healing comfort
This living

Made alive by your presence