Shh, Wearied One

I spend all my day

curled in your arms,

your mouth tenderly before my ear.

Come, look at me, you say, watching

me sway side to side, defenseless gaze

your betrothal. I will not hurt you, I

love you magno(Ju)lia.

I thumb scarred wrists,

laid down to rest on the Word robed

flesh, you don’t even flinch.

I don’t want this emptiness,

even my smile fades fake.

I can erupt tears a moments notice.

Right now, for instance.

If I look at you, I know shame will turn

my bottom lip down, I’m sorry, I’m

sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.

Alone at night, when mother sleeps

beside me, house hushed, I lie

awake. I tell you, please don’t take

me. Blood curses through me, quiet.

I don’t want to exhale one last time.

I fear someone laughs at me,

covering their mouth with palm.

How foolish can she be? We have

numbered days. Today. Tomorrow.

Any day could bring us back how

we came. I know what you say,

peace, I leave with you. My peace

I give to you. I do not give to you as

the world gives you. Do not let your

hearts be troubled, nor afraid.

I tremble, closing my eyes.

Am I still here? I breathe.

You will fight for me, I need only be

still.

I jump.

I don’t need to be terrified of them,

the voices condemning me inside.

You go before, you never leave, nor

forsake me.

You know when I rise, sit, discern

fear I can’t articulate, swirling

my head around until I well. I want

your blood & body not on a plate,

but between my void–fingers

clasped with your healing, arms

cradling my wearisome head,

a kiss against my fore,

lullaby without word.

Quiet my mouth with first and last

finger who presses selah where soul

stays child.

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