When I entered the world,
Shrieking and wailing, They told him to talk and calm me down. He did, and I listened, holding his big finger in all five of my little ones. A few years later, when I was shrieking and wailing again, He looked me in the eyes and I grabbed his finger in my five littler ones, And I calmed down. He makes me laugh when I am sad, He brings light into our lives, He works tirelessly day and night for us, And without him I would not be the same. He has carried us all at one point or another, Sometimes all at once. And so when I'm scared, Internally shrieking and wailing, I reach for his hand, And grip his finger in my five smaller ones. I knew his voice, And I stopped crying, And the doctors helped me breathe. He understands me, Knows me, Because I am like him, And so he knows what to say to help me feel better, Even if it's just the outreach of his open hand, So that my five tiny fingers could grip his larger one.
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Matilda OrwellPosting weekly on Friday or Saturday. Archives
September 2017
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