Sunday, October 3, 2010

cradle of my kin

I would be a beggar on the street
If you had not carried me;
My lazy heart rolled fat and heavy,
Startled by each mountain of defeat.

I would lie dry-foaming at the mouth,
Hope drained from my leaky soul;
And every trail I would take
Would lead me further, further south.

I would melt like warming snow in this foreign sun
If you had not whispered love
In waves of stronger mountain air
Holding up my broken wings, lest I come undone.

My home--it travels with me--in a sagging skin,
But you are what I cling to
When I need to be kept safe.
So name me, hold me, keep me, oh cradle of my kin!

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