During last rites of wounded men
asking for loved ones
Or a lonely day
when troubles run us into the ground,
when death touches unexpectedly
with trembling fingers
or with a vigorous shake
we all crave this continued
mothering, sistering, lovering
long after childhood, falling into decrepition
longing for some solace,
approbation
appreciation
to know we matter to someone
looking within—struggling to develop
the strength to stand alone
which
maybe we are not meant to be apart!
our place in this time and minute
changes with the sweep of a second hand tick
unless we widen the circle
uncertainty strikes at soul’s core
pulling us to seclusion
and away from comfort
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